


He's My Best Friend; Also My Tormentor

by TheRoaringWolf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bondage and Discipline, Bully Derek, Dark Derek, Depressed Stiles, Derek and Stiles are Childhood Friends, Derek and Stiles are Neighbors, Explicit Sexual Content, Forced Relationship, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Obsession, Possessive Behavior, Punishment, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rich Derek, Rough Sex, Stalking, Teen Derek, Underage - Freeform, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-04-03 03:45:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 31
Words: 88,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4085419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRoaringWolf/pseuds/TheRoaringWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Derek were best friends. Growing up next door neighbours to each other they did everything together. They watched their first R rated movie together, drank their first stolen beer together, they were always at each others side. Then out of blue Derek turned on Stiles. He shut him out of his life and began to torment him; shoved him against the lockers in the hall, spread humiliating lies about him to the school, Derek made it his mission to make Stiles' life a living Hell. </p><p>Why? Stiles would ask himself that question everyday for the last three years. He had done nothing to cause this. He had loved Derek when all of a sudden he was pushed out of his life.</p><p>One night, years later, Stiles is sitting by his bedroom window watching Derek's silent house, remembering the days of their friendship, when one mistake will cause everything in Stiles' life to be turned upside down and can only watch helplessly as everything falls apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter ONE

I didn't always hate looking outside of my window. There was a time, years ago, when I would smile brightly when he would open his window, cross the tree that joined our windows, and climb through my window; or vice versa. But now all I can think when I look outside my window, towards his room, is about the torment from my once best friend turned bully. 

Growing up I was always at his side, and he was always at mine. We did everything together; watched our first R rated movie while his parents were out, rode our bikes together, even stole some of my Dads beers and tasted it together. He was there through the hard times when my Mom had died. He would come with me when I would visit her at the cemetery, knowing I couldn't do it myself, and would sit with me without complaint for hours as I talked to her. 

He was my best friend, and I loved him.

And then one day three years ago he was just . . . not anymore. He became distant and wouldn't cross the tree and come through my window anymore; wouldn't let me through his. And that's when it began. I was pushed out of the group of guys we became good friends with. That was hard loosing the people I had grown close to. They would follow whatever Derek told them to do, everyone did. But what was worse soon came later. The attacks and pranks Derek would play on me. He began to torment me in horrible ways. He would shove me into the lockers as he passed by, spread rumours about me, yell names out to me, and laughed whenever he would see my eyes water after his attacks. 

It hurt. It hurt like Hell. I couldn't tell you the amount of times I had cried thinking about what I could have possibly done to destroy my friendship; what I did that made him hate me suddenly so much. It was soon after I would get angry at myself for crying. I didn't do anything! One day before the new school year we were best friends, and then the next day, it was all gone. 

He would all but ignore my existence, unless he was feeling bored and that's when he would basically seek me out to torment me. I could never bring myself to ask for help. I don't know why. I could never answer that question; why are you letting this happen? I just couldn't. I don't know what was wrong with me. Even after all that he does to me, even when my back tenses in preparation; or fear, I still watch him as he walks past me.

So I don't know why I am here now. Sitting on my chair late in the night next to my window, watching his empty dark window. Remembering those years before when there wouldn't go a day were we wouldn't smile at each other.

There were no smiles anymore . . . 

I was stupid enough today, while at my locker, to look up at him when he was at his with his friends. I would often feel when he was looking at me. The rush of heat would run down my neck, causing the small hairs to stand. But today luck was against me as the feeling never came and I looked up at him right as he was looking at me. The look he gave me hurt. It was emotionless as if I was nothing to him. His storm green eyes were dark and heated. The same way he would always stare at me. I had lowered my head and expected the worst as he pushed off from the lockers, Jordan and Boyd closely following behind. But nothing came. He had only kept his stare in me as he past. 

That wasn't the first time that had happened. So I knew what was coming next. Whenever he did that he was thinking. Thinking of more ways to hurt and humiliate me. 

It's then when the light came on in his rooms.The light shined though the branches and leaves of the tree, and onto my window. 

I should have looked away. If I had just turned my head and goto the bathroom, which I badly needed to goto, everything could have been avoided. But I stayed as I watched him move through his room. I watched as he shed off his black sweatshirt, leaving him in a thin black teeshirt with sleeves that barely pass halfway down his biceps. It's then I should've have looked away from him, because it's at that moment he stopped all his movements and turned his head and looked directly at me. 

I felt my muscles tense and my back straighten as his gaze held onto mine. Even through the glass, across the tree, I could see the heat in his eyes. The green eyes I once loved to look up into now held so much hatred for me. The rush of heat now returned, and I do what I should have done moments ago, I look away and walk to the bathroom.

He's going to hurt me. I can already see it happening. Whether it's in physical or verbal form, it's coming. Why didn't I just stop looking? Why was I in the first place? I'll try and fail to avoid him tomorrow at school. He always finds me. And it's sick, but there's that small, small, part of me inside that looks forward to when Derek torments me. It's the only time he acknowledges my existence. 

Finishing relieving myself, I wash my wands, and walk back down the hallway to my room. I rub at my forehead, trying to will away the oncoming headache. There's no painkillers left in the house and Dad is working the late shift. All I can do is relax and hope it goes away. I begin to make my way to my bed when I return to my room, only to stop dead in my tracks. The window I was just looking through is now open. I had opened it after I got home, and closed it before nightfall. I never locked it . . . 

I feel my back tighten and my posture straightening until I'm standing straight. My eyes frantically search the room for my bat. I see it on the other side of my desk. I begin to move forward, but before I could get one step in, a voice behind me stops all movement in me.

"I wouldn't if I was you."

I feel everything in me rise and sink at the same time. He's here. In my room, again. After all these years he had crossed the tree and climbed through my window, he's back. But I know why he's here. His thinking time is over, and now it's time to make me cry. If I hadn't been watching his window tonight it would have happened tomorrow, not here in my room. I mentally start kicking myself.

"Wha-what are doing here?" I choke out, my back still to him. 

"Turn around, Stilinski." He barks out in his deep voice. I cringe at the name. He hasn't called me by my name ever since he started to torment me. I hesitate in doing so. "Now!" He barks again, this time louder. My hands start to shake as I turn around slowly to face him.

Now facing him, my eyes take longer to match my movements, and when my eyes look at him I feel ice cold dread run through me. His eyes are darker and more heavy than I have ever seen in. It's hatred. It's filled to the brim in inside of him. He's standing there, taller than me, even as kids he has always taller than me, with his hands balled into fists at his sides. His face is no longer emotionless. It looks like he's struggling to hold back. Oh fuck, this is going to be bad. 

I try to steady - well everything, and ask him again. "What are y-"

"I've come to a conclusion of what's going to happen. Of what you deserve" 

What? "What?"

"For way too long you think you've gotten away with it. You think you can do what you do and just get away it? No fucking way, Stilinski." His balled fists begin to shake as he takes a step forward towards me. 

I take a step back shaking my head in confusion. "What-what-what do you mean do what I do? What are you doing? What are-why are you in room?" It all stutters out as I take more steps back as he takes steps forward. If I can just get to my bat . . . 

"You know exactly what I mean. These mind games you play, the mind games you've been playing since we were kids. It's coming to an end. Now." Derek moves closer, faster this time. That's when I rush for the bat. There's something wrong with him. There were no mind games, none from me. He was the one who had flipped the switch from being my best friend to being my bully. Just as I grab ahold of the bat I am shoved against the wall with a loud thud. 

Sudden pain rushed through and along my arm as Derek grasped the hat that was still holding the bat and squeezed. 

Bellowing out in pain, I release the bat and let it drop to the floor. 

"That was a stupid move, Stilinski." Derek held me against the wall, my face pushed into the wall. He was close to me. More close to me than he has ever been in three years. I feel the heat from his breath as he speaks. "What were you planning to do? Hit me? You think that would have stopped me?" He spits out a mocking laugh. 

"Why-why are you doing this?" It's all I can speak as my throat chokes up.

The deep growl like sound was the only warning I got before I was pulled back from the wall and slammed back into it. I groan out in pain as my head bangs against the wall. 

"No more games!" He screams into my ear, causing me to flinch. "I hate you so much for what you did. YOU ruined everything. You stole it . . . you took it all, Stilinski. Now I'm going to take it from you." 

What did I ever do to make you hate me this much? What did I steal from you? What are you going to take from me? All of those questions flood through my head. I want to ask him. I need to know why, I've wanted to know for years. But the only thing that passes through my lips, "please . . . Derek"

"No. No, no, no. You do not get to say my name. Not now. You've lost that privilege." He growls into my ear. "I'm going to take it from you, Stilinski." He repeats. "I'm going to take it all from you until there's nothing left, but me."

I want to stand up to him. I want to stand up to this monster that killed my best friend three years ago. I want it all back. I want the friendship back. I want him back. With the threat still lingering in the air I want to ask he's going to take, I want to comeback with a sarcastic comment, I just want it all to be simple. My train of thought, many thoughts, is interrupted when he leaned in closer above me, his hands that were holding me against the wall tighten as he inhaled deeply at the back of my neck. "Fuck," he growled. 

What? No. No, no. This couldn't be what I was thinking. He was here to make me cry, to torment me . . . "Nothing but me." He growled again. Oh God no. Please . . . no. 

I am suddenly pulled away from the wall and slammed onto the desk. The impact of my body pushed the desk out of its usual place; books, pencils and pens, even the plastic Batman cup I use to drink out of, fell to the ground. With my left arm crushed underneath me and my right free I frantically try to free myself; pushing up and even trying to hit him, both failures as he pins the arm to the desk. A whimper escapes from my throat. "Please . . . stop. Derek, plea-"

"YOU DO NOT SAY MY NAME!" He screams down at me. My eyes clenching shut by the volume of his voice. The arm he was using to hold down mine pulled back from the desk to the centre of my back and held it there in an odd angle, pushing me down harder into the desk. 

I manage to turn my head, scraping my chin across the desk, to look over my shoulder at him. He's almost bent over me, his centre pressed up against my backside. My eyes begin to feel with tears as I look at his eyes. There's nothing there. No warmth, nothing that I recognise, just clouded darkness; almost full black. His eyes shot up to see me looking up at him over my shoulder. His emotionless face falters; he winces as if I had just punched him in the gut and his eyes soften. 

"Why?" I barely whisper out. He seemed to have heard because in moments the emotionless is back again, and the softness in eyes are a distant memory; taking on a more darker hatred than I have ever seen before. The hand he had free gripped at the waistband of my jeans and boxers and roughly pulled them down. The sound of him spitting echoed through the room.

Years ago, before he turned into this, I had fallen in love with him. I didn't understand it at the time. The warm feeling that rushed through me, even on the days when I wasn't happy, that warmth would always radiate from me whenever he would knock on my window and climb through. There were so many times I wanted to tell my best friend that I loved him. But I was too afraid that he might not want to be friends anymore, that he would be disgusted. So as hard as it was, I pushed it all away. I continued our friendship as it was. Three years ago, the day before he become . . . this, the day I got my first kiss, I was so excited to tell Derek. When I told him -

I scream out in pain and throw my head back and jerk my body back as much as I can as something thick was pushed inside me. The hand that was held to my back clenched into a tight ball. The short nails piercing the skin. I know what that something is. This is really happening. The monster inside my once best friends skin was doing this to me.

His groans were mixed with my screams as he started to thrust into me. The desk underneath me jerked with the thrusting movements. The screams soon turned into silent screams, as I silently watched pens and pencils roll back and forth across the desktop only to roll onto the floor with everything else. 

The only noise that filled the room were from the thrust, the creek from the desk, and the occasional groan from Derek that almost sounded painful. 

My tears continue to fall, pooling at my cheek that was pushed against the desk. It's then when he pulled himself out of me, grabbing me off the desk, and hurled me onto the bed facedown. He is instantly over me, his hands holding down my arms on either side of me.

It's moments later when he's shoved back into me. My mouth is thrown open to scream, when only a loud whimper comes out. His thrusting becomes harder and takes on speed. His head lowers down into the back of my neck and lets out a loud grunt as he releases inside of me. My eyes close for a moment; a tear drop run across the bridge of my nose and fell onto the blanket. 

My body sank down to the mattress as he pulled himself out of me and got up off the bed. I didn't say a word. I only watched him through tear clouded eyes. I watched as he began the short trip to the window, only to stop mid step and turn to look at me. His eyes were bloodshot, like he had been crying while he . . . yea. His face twitched in many ways, like he was trying to hold in a sneeze; his eyes beginning to water. He turned his head to the side in a fast jerking motion, put on a deep frown, and his face began to turn emotionless. He turned back to me with a face made of stone.

"If you tell your Dad; if you tell anyone, I will hurt you in ways you cannot imagine, just like you had hurt me . . . be ready before seven-thirty. I'm driving us to school." He voice was void of any emotion. He turned back around, opened up my window, and began to climb through, to stop again. "Go for a shower. Clean the blood off you." 

I only laid there and watched. Watched as my best friend, the best friend I had loved, now turned enemy climbed through the window and carefully walked across the branches of the tree towards his window. I curled myself up into fetal position, ignoring the pain, and cried. Remembering what it all use to be like.


	2. Chapter TWO

I look up at the mirror, wiping my hand across the fogged up glass, looking at my reflection. Th usual fair skinned brunette was not there. I didn't recognise this pale stranger, with heavy bags underneath his eyes, looking back at me.

I had not slept last night. I had just laid there, curled up in a ball; my knees held tight to my chest. I hated it. I hated feeling how weak I was - how weak I am. Looking at myself, that's what I see: bloodshot eyes, dark shadows weighing heavy underneath them, skin too pale. Weak.

It's then, again, I question what did I do - why he's doing this to me. My mind tracks back to the day before everything fell apart, before he shut me out of his life. The day before the new school year, the day I had my first kiss. I barley even remember it. It was my last hope to put an end to my feelings towards Derek. I didn't want to ruin our friendship by telling him I was in love with him. The irony was strong -

Loud knocks on the bathroom door filled the room. 

"You alright in there, kiddo? . . . you've been in there for awhile." My Dad calls out.

He had gotten home just after one in the morning. He had softly knocked on my bedroom door once to let me know that he was home safe, in case I was awake. Something he's done for me for years. Thankfully, though, he didn't come in to let me know he was home. I don't think I could have explained to him why I was curled up into a ball with dry tears on my face.

"Yea, I'm alright Dad." I call back to him. It's better to lie. 

"Well hurry it up. School starts in an hour." He calls back before the sound of his footsteps echo down the hallway, and down the staircase.

Sighing. I run my hand down my face, and grab the teeshirt I had pulled at random from my closet. It was a simple red V-neck shirt that had shrunk in the dryer, now only reaching halfway down my biceps. I had already spent thirty minutes in the shower just standing underneath the warm spray, I din't have time to pick another shirt. Pulling on boxers and jeans next. Moving at a slow pace. My body still ached with pain from . . . from Derek. Dipping my fingers into hair product I push up the fringe so it's spiked. I spray under my arms. I look up again at myself in the mirror. My hands begin to tremble as I think about seven-thirty. He had said to be ready by then, that he was driving us to school. We live about a ten minute walk from Beacon Hills High School. That's a thirty minute wall with him, inside his car, alone.

"Stiles!" My father yells from downstairs. "Hurry up. Your breakfast is on the table."

Drawing in a shaky breath. I will my hands to stop the intense trembling and open the door, heading downstairs.

Walking into the kitchen the first thing thing that hits me is the strong smell of burnt toast. Dad would always try his hardest to make toast but would always burn them. Every single time. No matter if he timed it perfectly, he would somehow manage to burn them. Mom had loved that about him; she loved that he would try and try again to make us perfect toast in the morning, but would fail every time. The second thing I notice is that he's in his uniform. He's leaving, after a full night swift. 

"Jeez, Stiles. Took you long enough." He says, leaning back against the island with a cup of coffee. 

"You're going back in this morning?" I ask as I take a seat at the table and stare down at the burn toast. A large amount of butter was spread across it, covering up the burnt areas.

"Yeah I am. Speaking of which . . ." He checks his wristwatch, suddenly tipping his half full cup into the sink. "Shit, I'm late. I won't be home until late at night, maybe early morning. Alright, so have a good day. Don't get into shit, Stiles! And you can order in tonight, or there's leftover Chinese in the fridge if you want." He rushed past me into the hallway. "Love you, Stiles." He calls out before closing the door behind him. 

"Love you too, Dad." I call out to no one. Taking the plate of toast, I empty it into the trash and clean up Dads dishes too; plate of burnt toast with only one bite bitten into it and his coffee mug.

When I'm done, I pull out my phone to check the time. Seven twenty-five. Silent quakes rock though my body and I draw in a shaky breath.

Walking over to my bag, that I always leave in the hallway by the stairs, I grab it and swing it over my shoulder. I look up to the picture that hangs above where I put my bag. The very reason why I leave my bag there. The picture is of me and Derek when we were kids, arms thrown over each others shoulders, smiling bright, with our mothers behind us. Like Derek and I had once been, our Moms grew up together and were best friends. I loved that photo. Back when Mom was still alive, when Derek was still my best friend and didn't hate me. When everything was perfect. 

The roar of a car engine from outside broke me away from my thoughts. 

Derek's car.

He had gotten the black Camaro this year for his birthday. He had brought in a large crowd of people when he pulled into the school parking lot and hopped out of the driver's seat. It was the coolest car anyone owned, even better than Jackson's Porsche. It was also the one of three days a year when he wouldn't shove me into the lockers or yell things out to me. He left our Birthdays alone, for some reason.The other day . . . that was my Moms day. He would only stare at me on that day. I missed his Birthday. Every year I would set my alarm to wake me up early. I would cross the tree and open his window, we would never lock our windows, and wake him up by flopping onto him; waking him up. He would always smile and laugh, then flip us around and tackle me to the bed. His Mom would make us breakfast before school. I missed her too, I missed Cora . . . I missed them all.

Hesitating at the door, I let loose and draw in a shaky breath before opening the door and stepping outside onto the front porch. The fence that had once separated our two houses was taken down years ago back when my Mom was still alive. The black Camaro's engine was running. The driver's side door was open; he was leaning against the car, his arms crossed across his chest, with an unreadable expression on his face as he watched me. Dressed in a pair of dark jeans, and a plain black tee under an open leather jacket. 

Stopping a few feet away from him. I don't know what to do. I don't want to get in the car with him. I'm scared of him. I shouldn't be. This person standing in front of me was once everything to me, someone who could bring me up from those days when I was too sad thinking about my Mom. It shouldn't be like this. 

I don't know how long I stood there in front of him. I couldn't meet his gaze dead on. I focused on his car behind him, his house, the tree, or my hands. Suddenly he pushed himself off the car, the push bringing him close to me; almost chest to chest. I breathe in hard and hold it, tensing my back muscles. I hated being weak. I didn't want to be weak. And yet, here I am, being weak.

I hear him take in a deep breath above me before speaking. "Get in the car," he all but orders. His voice deep, almost growling as if I had just pissed him off.

"Can I - I can . . . walk to school. It's not far . . ."

We would be alone in the car, for nearly thirty minutes. After last night, with the threats he made, getting into the car with him . . . what would he do to me?

I step back away from him. I plan to turn my back, and walk away, maybe run into the house. I couldn't tell. There were reasons, not only the threat be made last night that he would hurt me if I told anyone, but . . . it's him. He may hate me, for whatever reason, but I couldn't hate him. I tried, even last night; what he did to me, the feeling of hate wasn't there. I don't know if there's something wrong with me. Before I turn my back to him, a strong hand takes ahold of my bicep and next minute I'm tossed into his car. He get's behind the wheel and drives forward before I adjust to my surroundings.

I put as much distance between us as I can. I have myself pushed against the car door. "What happened?" Before I can stop myself, words start pouring out. "What happened to you? Why are you like this? Why doing this to me? We were best friends for years and you're doing this to me?" I yelled, not knowing where this sudden verge of confidence came from. But it radiated anger. I was angry. "I didn't do anything to deserve this from you. I did nothing!" I screamed. 

Derek suddenly pulled off the road and onto rough road that led into the hills; nothing but trees around us. He parked the car, pushed open his door, and rounded to my side in quick movements. All of it was happening in front of me, to me, before I could even process a reaction to it all, my side door is ripped open, grabbing both of my arms he pulls me from the car, my shoes skidding across the dirt and stone as he hurls me to the ground. 

Ignoring my cry of pain, he moves forward, fisting both of his hands on the front of my shirt and hurls me back up. His face now inches away from mine. Neither of us said a word as he held me in place, my hands had wrapped around his wrists the moment get hurled me up, my attempts to pull his hands off of my shirt fail. He only stares at me dead in the eye. I look up to match his gaze. A lot is flowing through in this moment, the one thing I want to hold onto his anger, and I want to show it. Looking into his eyes, I fail. I expected to see the usual dark hatred in in them. But what I was met with was something different.

He lowers his head closer to mine. "Unbelievable." He says, in a deep growl. "You've been playing your mind games for so long that you actually believe the bullshit you say. You did nothing? You honestly believe that, don't you. You destroyed it, Stilinski. You're the one that broke it. Imagine. Just imagine having it all, everything is perfect, and then one day that 'perfect all' comes back to shove it in your face that you're not good enough-" he cuts off mid sentence and closes his eyes. Confusion has to be radiating from my face. Having it all? What does that mean? Confusion only doubles when his forehead lowers and rests upon mine. His eyes then reopen and stare into mine. "You're going to pay, Stilinski. I'm going to brake you; tear you down, piece by piece until there's only one thing left. Me."

 

\- - - - -

 

Three years ago:

I didn't expect the kiss. Before the break I got told of the rumour that Callie Watson had a crush on me. I didn't believe it at first, not until she approached me after school. Asking me if I wanted to hang out during the break. We had hung out quite a few times over the break. We would goto the park, see a movie together, or just hang out in her room. Her parents were cool with me, her Mom would come in with chips and drinks for us whenever I was at her house. She was fun to be around, and it took my mind off Derek. 

On the day before the new school year, she was going to a different school; Bean Hills Private School up North, so she would be moving closer to the school, thirty so minutes away, she told me that she has had a crush on me for a long time. In that moment she moved forward and kissed me on my lips. I had been taken back at first by the kiss, and kissed her back. 

Smiling as I walked back to my house. I had just had my first kiss, with a girl who liked me. My mind was racing, most with thoughts about Derek. But this time they weren't about my feelings towards him or about how those feelings could destroy our friendship. I was excited to tell him about it. 

Seeing that my Dad was home, I rushed through the front door, and up the stairs, ready to climb across the tree to his window. Pushing open my bedroom door, I had nearly had a heart attack. Instead of having to cross the tree to his room, Derek was already here sitting on my bed. Smiling at the fact that he scared the shit out of me. 

Laughing as he spoke. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, Stiles."

Smiling, I walk over to sit down in the desk chair in front of my bed. "No, no, no. You didn't - I mean, yeah, you did. But it's okay. It's good you're already here. I wanted to talk to you anyway." I rush out my words in manner of seconds. Anyone else would have had trouble following along; wondering what the Hell I had just said. But Derek had always managed to understand me whenever I got like this.

"Jesus, Stiles, you're hyper today." His green eyes were shinning bright as his smiled broadened. "I wanted to talk to you too as well. But you go first."

"Okay, alright. You sure it's alright if I go first, you can say wanted to say." He nods at me to say what I wanted to say. "Okay. There's really no need to beat around the bush, because this is cool. But . . . I just had my first kiss." My smile at that point was ear to ear. I don't know why, but I really wanted to share this with him. Even if I did love him.

The ear to ear smile I had started to lessen as I watched his face. The smile he had dropped until it was nothing but a firm line; the brightness in his green eyes darkened, and a deep frown came across his face. 

"What's wrong?" I frown as I ask. I lean forward in my chair. 

He didn't say anything. He only leant forward lie how I am right now. The expressions on his face kept changing every few moments. His frown would turn into something softer that looked like hurt and his brows would draw together, and then the frown would return. "Derek, what's wrong?" I ask, getting up from my chair. At the mention of his name his head looks up and stares at me. I take a step back. His eyes aren't the storm green orbs that I love. These are dark and cold. My falls falls open. He's never looked at me like that. Not even when he would have trouble with his mood swings. I ask again. "What's wrong?"

He suddenly shots up from my bed. Without saying a word he walks over to the window and begins to climb through it. "Derek?" His head turns back to me, I again falter and take a step back. His face his emotionless as stone as he looks at me. My best friend, who was just sitting on my bed moments ago smiling at me, now looked at me as if I was a stranger to him. 

I could only watch as he climbed through my window, cross the tree, and climb through his window; feeling everything inside of me grow cold and numb. I wasn't an idiot. I saw the look in his eyes, the look he gave me . . . I don't know how or why, but I had just lost him. 

"Derek?" I whisper to no one, watching the light in his room go dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The feedback for this story has been crazy amazing! Thank you all so very much :D I didn't expect it. I will try to keep updates regular; seeing how I'm working on two stories. But again, thank you all so much. You guys are awesome :D
> 
> Just to let everyone know, I'm not a fan of happy endings. I don't have an ending in mind for this just yet, but as the story progresses, whatever is revealed and whatever feelings come alive, keep in mind that I don't like happy endings >;D


	3. Chapter THREE

Being the social outcast Derek had made me, school had been hard. I had kept my grades at a high level. I never draw any unwanted attention to myself in class. And I always sat alone in class; away from Derek if we shared the class. The only time I was ever noticed by my piers was whenever Derek shoved me, called out to me, or spread rumours about me. The moment Derek and I walked through the doors of school, walking side by side, it had caused a lot of shocked expressions. 

Over the tree years I had tried to make friends. Some who actually liked me; who I really had fun talking to and being around. But they had always ended the same way. One day we could be smiling and talking with a friendship on the horizon. Then the next day I would be shut off. They wouldn't smile or talk to me, some even ignored my existence all together. I never understood why; it had to be my fault. What with Derek ending our friendship suddenly and then tormenting me, it was obvious no one wanted me around; to be my friend. 

Walking into class the reaction was much similar to one we got in the hallway. Derek's hate towards me was no secret. Seeing him this close to me, without physically or verbally attacking me, would confuse people - me included. English with Ms Silas was one of the classes I shared with Derek, I had my regular table away from Derek's.

I begin to make my way over to my table, keeping my head down to avoid all the stares I was receiving. When seated at my regular table I continued to keep my eyes focused downwards. I don't raise them when I feel Derek brush against my shoulder as he walked past me. I didn't raise them when Ms Silas started the lesson. I didn't even raise them when a new student was announced to the class . . . not until my name was called out.

"The only empty seat left is next to Stiles," Ms Silas spoke, bringing my eyes up from the desk for the first time this lesson, "the one in the red with spiky brown hair, that's him. I'm sure he won't mind if you sit next to him."

The heaviness of stares fall on me, yet again. But as I feel the harm sensation run along the back of my neck, I feel his stare on the back of my head. I don't know what possesses me to do so, but as I turn around, for one moment I meet his flared gaze head on before he raises it next to me.

"Hey," a voice comes from my left, as he sits down next to me. Lowering his voice, "all these stares, are they for me because I'm new . . . or because I'm sitting next to you, and you're the like the psychopath killer of the school?" He asks, giving a small laugh. I smile. "I'm Scott, by the way."

"I'm Stiles . . . which you obviously know by now . . ." I shake my head at myself. "And to answer your question. Yes. It's because of me. I'm the school killer. I've killed everyone who has dared to sit in that chair next to me." I say, giving my best sinister look. 

I'm surprised at myself. Not moments ago I felt the many stares weighing down upon me, pilling onto the already full darkness that was close to overflowing. But now, for the first time in a long time, I feel as if that darkness can be pushed back. I'm hurting myself, I know. I repel anyone and everyone that comes in too close to me. I guess, somehow, I did something to make it so I don't deserve friends. 

"Well, damn. If this is my first and last day at this school before getting killed by you," Scott lands his hand on my shoulder, smiling, "at least I get killed by someone with an interesting name. What is the story behind your name?"

This question was asked whenever someone learnt my name. On autopilot I answer Scott. "It's not really my name. I'm named after my Moms dad, but no one could ever say it correctly accept him and Nan, so I thought 'Stiles' would be easier." I say, only noticing that his attention wasn't on me, but focused on behind me. 

"Uhmm . . ." Scott starts quietly, looking back at me. "That big guy in back keeps staring at me like he wants to murder me. Are you sure you're he's not the school killer? Because he looks like he wants to kill me." 

I know exactly who he's talking about. Hesitantly turning my head to the back of the room, stopping a few moments in between. I look back to see that Derek has his fists balled up right onto of his desk, his mouth is set in a firm line, and his eyes are blazing in Scotts direction; to only change a moment latter, onto the hand that's still on my shoulder. 

Ms Silas's voice, welcoming Scott and laying out the lesson plan for the day is nothing but back noise. He wants to hurt me. He had hurt me, for a very long time. He thinks I'm playing this game, that I have enjoyed watching him leave my life. His words: you're going to pay. I'm going to brake and tear you down, until there's nothing left but me. I know what that means . . . he's done it already. He had already started his plan in tearing me apart. How can I make him believe that I'm telling the truth that I did nothing, that there's no game being played by me. I should have told him three years ago how I feel - felt - feel . . . I don't know, about him. He would have ended our friendship, it would have hurt bad, but it would have been better than this. 

His burning stare leaves the hand that's on my shoulder and looks up to me, his eyes burn into mine. What's flowing through them; what's going through his head. I want to know. I just . . . want to know why, to so many things. "Stiles turn around, please." Ms Silas voice commanded. Drawing me away from Derek's stare. 

His stare did not stop all through class. More than once I would take a quick glance to the back row and see him, still staring at me with his burning eyes that yelled how much he hated me, the eyes that want to destroy me. 

 

\-----

 

I didn't want to do this to myself, but I hot my hopes up about Scott. I really like him, and I could tell he would be a really good friend. But it always looked good at first. They'd be there one minute, smiling, laughing, helping you get through the dark moments when you miss your Mom; taking you to go see her, and then they're gone, and everything just feels wrong. 

I don't know what happens that turns people off me, but it's probably already happened. Tomorrow I'll walk into English and Scott won't even acknowledge my existence. Sighing, I pick up my pace walking down the hallway. 

Lunch was never my favourite. The cafeteria was somewhere I never went. Not only because I would be sitting alone; adding to my already loneliness, but I had learnt fast that Derek enjoyed tormenting me the most in the cafeteria. I shudder at the memories of him yelling out to me, and then having him and his table laugh at the tears that fell from me. 

For almost tree years I had avoided the cafeteria all together. Spending my lunch mostly in the library, either working on my homework or to read. Lately I had been spending in the art room with Jocelyn, my art teacher who would never allow us to call her Mrs Dungton. She was cool with me spending my lunch in there, often with her while she prepared for the next class. Most the time I would sit there and sketch on paper; drawing Jocelyn working at her desk, drawing Mom and Dad and me together again, and drawing Derek and I together when we were kids. It sounds pathetic, I know. But the memories are all I have left. Memories fade, and I need them. So I draw them. 

Jocelyn never stopped encouraging me to continue with my drawing, saying I have an amazing gift and that I should continue with it. Three others have said that to me. Mom and Dad, Dad still, would tell me that when the time comes I should study art; that I'm amazing. Derek was the other. Except he only said it once, other than that he would only watch me as I worked with my pencils and then smile when I finished the drawing.

The picture I was currently working, have been working on for over a week, is another memory of Derek and me. I can't help but smile remembering. It was of me and him. I was sleeping over at his, we were both ten - almost eleven years old. His Mom had gone out and got us McDonalds. I had gotten cheese and sauce all around my mouth and hands from devouring my meal. Derek jokingly telling me to not come near him before I wash myself. I had responded by jumping on top of him and rubbing my face and hands all over him, spreading the cheese and sauce onto him. 

I loved the memories, but today I wouldn't be able to enjoy them; a hand is suddenly wrapped around my arm and I am dragged and pushed into an empty classroom. 

I look around at my surroundings. The chalkboard has numbers written across it. It's one of the math classrooms. Hearing the door slam shut and lock. I look over and see Derek, now facing me. His now dark eyes burning looking at me.

As he moves forward at a slow pace towards me, I back up as much as I can, until the back of my legs hit the teachers desk.

He doesn't stop until he's standing in front of me, inches apart. 

Expecting the worse, I feel my hands start to tremble and my back muscles tense. No! I scream at myself. I can't be weak. I hate that I'm weak around him. I won't be. I press my hands to my side and look up at him.

"Stilinski," he inhales deeply, his eyelids faltering and almost close for a moment, before exhaling, "if you ever let that fucker touch you again, I will kill him, and then you." 

"Wha-what . . . w-who?" My braveness falters under his blazing eyes, and I stutter the words. 

"That fucker who sat next to you!" He all but yells.

". . . w-who? Scott?"

His hand is instantly grips my chin in a tight grasp. His other hand now gripping my shoulder hard. "Never say his name. He touched what is mine-he touched you. He's lucky I'm not out there now, grabbing ahold on his hand and breaking every single fucking finger. Do you understand me? You won't speak to him again . . . nod!"

I know I should nod. But I don't. He wants me to not speak to Scott. Why, because he put a hand on my shoulder? Why did he care, he hates me and wants to hurt me. I frown up at him and shake my head.

I knew it was an awful idea; his burn into mine, and his grip on my chin tightened so hard I whimper and start to push against him. It doesn't do much, other than make him tighten his hold on my chin and shoulder.

He barks out an humourless laugh. "You seem to forget something, Stilisnki." He breathes down, the grip on my chin lets go; running around my neck to grip the back of it, holding me tight. The hand that was holding onto my shoulder drops downwards on my body, down my abdomen and grips the waistband of my jeans. "You're mine, Stilinski. You always have been. You're mine to ruin, to destroy. Nobody else's. No one lays a finger on you but me, so if that fucker ever touches you again I won't hold back. I won't hold in my anger again. I will kill him, and then you for letting it happen. This little act of defiance you just did; refusing to nod, it will cost you, Stilinski. Tonight it will cost you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter everyone, I tried to make it longer but I've been very bust lately :| hope you all enjoy it :)
> 
> I hope the spelling is okay. I'm trying to keep the spelling differences as unnoticeable as I can. It's been a task spelling mum as "mom" haha. So I hope the spelling differences aren't annoying while reading :)


	4. Chapter FOUR

I release a gasping groan. His grip on my wrists, held above my head, tighten until there's little to no feeling from both. Pleasure and pain mix together as his mouth lowers down and he starts sucking at my throat, leading up to bite my jaw.

I had yet to get to go for my drivers license. One the days my Dad had off he would drive me to and from school, but on the other days I would walk. And if I am honest, I didn't mind it. On the days when Derek would torment me, which was most days, the short walk was the best way to clear my head. There were even the times that when I reached home I wouldn't stop. I would continue to walk. Just to think. 

That's what I had hoped and wanted after school. But as usual, something somewhere laughs at my life; watching my pain for pleasure. Derek had stopped and pulled me into his car before I could even walk out of the school entrance. 

The drive from school to our houses was silent. I know the usual questions of why and fighting him would lead to now where, only angering him, so I had kept myself on alert and watched the passing trees out the window.

When he pulled up into his driveway, I didn't thank him. I only grabbed my bag and pushed open the door. I knew I should have expected it, but I barely made it made it to my house before his hand was tight around my bicep. "I don't think so." He had breathed down into my ear before dragging me into his house.

It had been a longtime since I had been inside the house that had once been a second home to me. The small glimpses I had gotten of it before I was dragged up the staircase showed me that everything looked the same: the same large black leather lounges, the same almost white coloured paint on the walls, everything had stayed the same except Derek who had changed into this person who hated me. 

The small hope that Talia or cora would be home to stop whatever Derek was going to do to me died. 

Dragging me up the stairs, he had me wait outside his room for a moment. Before the thought of running back down those stairs had even ended in my head, he reopened his door and hurled me inside. His room however was a different story. From memory I remember the light blue walls with posters of superheroes from the movies we use to watch together, blue and red beanbags at the end of his bed; his was the blue and mine was the red, and NBA bed sheets. Everything was different. The walls are now a darker shade of blue, with no posters whatsoever. The beanbags are gone, with the only chair being a black one tucked away in the corner. A large bed with a black quilt cover and dark blue bed sheets now dominates the room. 

The Derek I had known before - my Derek, was nothing more than that. Memories. Somewhere, back three years - possibly that day, something took my Derek away from me, and left me with this monster that changed and destroyed everything I loved in my life. I needed to know why. I told myself I can't be weak. Not anymore. I needed to know. 

As I had been taking in my new surroundings; remembering years back, and telling myself I needed to fight for answers, he had shoved me onto his bed back first and was on top of me, holding both of my hands above my head with his right hand, and attacking my throat in a flash. I gasp out as he bites down onto my jaw. 

He brings up his face up from my throat to look down on me, his eyes almost black. He growls; breathing hot breath onto me. "That fucker who touched you today, he thinks he can have this; can have whats mine." He barks out a laugh, tightening his grip on my hands even tighter. "So many have tried to take you from me and have you for themselves. I've kept you all to myself this hole time. Where you belong."

"You . . .?" I breathe out. I know it shouldn't have come as a surprise. All this time I thought no one wanted to be with me; around me. But . . . "You're the reason that when-that no one speaks to me the day I speak to them." 

"Yes I did," he responds, with an uncaring tone in his voice. 

"Why?" The question I continue to ask. 

The heated look that has been growing in his eyes burned down into me with such intensity; he lowers his head close to my ear, breathing out his answer. "Because you're mine." He then starts tugging at my jeans. 

No. Not this again. No. "Stop!" I yell up at him. I push myself up as hard as I can, which does nothing but push myself into Derek. My panic rising as I begin to thrash my head around. The panic soars when his left hand warps around my throat and squeezes. "Please, Derek." I grasp out. 

His grip around my throat then tightens; I choke on the hold, trying to draw in air, his face within inches of mine. "You never my name. Not you! Ever!" He roars into my face.

I feel my eyes start to water as I struggle to take in air. "Derek, please," I whisper, he loudly roars again. I barely whisper it out; what I say . . . I don't know why I said it. I was struggling to draw in breath, and it just whispered out. "I love-d you . . ."

The grip on my throat suddenly loosened and I inhaled deeply. "What did you just say?" he ask softly. I focus on drawing in more deep breaths, ignoring his question. I never wanted to say that to him. What the fuck did I just do. He's doing all this to hurt me. Now that he knows how I feel-no, how I felt about him, he'll be disgusted. He will spread it through school and he will accomplish in destroying me. "What the fuck did you just say?" He asks again, this time almost yelling. 

I look up at him as he looks down to me, studying my eyes, as if to see if what I had just said was a lie, a ploy for him to remove his hand that's currently wrapped around my throat. He looks deep into my eyes a moment longer before he veers upwards, both his hold on my neck and hands release, landing at the foot of the bed, and then begins to pace. 

He suddenly stops his pacing and then looks at me, his nostrils flaring and his eyes blazing. His fingers slowing curling into a ball. "How fucking dare you," he speaks slowly through clenched teeth, "of all your fucking mind games you would play, you'd lie about that? I'm going to tear everything you care about to the ground." 

Again with these mind games be believes I'm playing. I didn't want to tell him. I never planned on telling him, I couldn't. But how fucking dare him say I'm lying. I can't be weak and sit back and take it all anymore. "I'm not lying to you, you fucked up asshole." Rubbing my wrists with both my hands, ignoring the pain from my neck, I get up off the bed and stand next to it, facing him. "I had loved you for as long as I can remember; before my Mom died. You were my best friend, you were everything to me, Derek. You were there for me through everything. When my Mom died, you were there. You took me to go see her in the cemetery when I couldn't go myself. When I cried for hours missing her you sat there with me and wouldn't leave until I stopped crying. Fuck, Derek . . . I think I loved you before I even knew what love was. I-"

"But you kissed her." Derek interrupts. 

"What?"

"You had your first kiss with another . . ."

No. No, no, no, no! This . . . this can't be why he all did this. "Are you . . . this. This is what it's all about? That I had my first kiss with another person? You destroyed our friendship, ruined my life; tormented me for three fucking years, forced yourself onto me to punish me because of these supposed games I play. Are you fucking serious, Derek? What the fuck is wrong with you?" I hope Talia and Cora don't come home anytime soon; to come home and hearing me yell at the top of my voice. 

I had watched his face the entire time I had yelled at him. It had changed many times through out. Anger was splashed across it at first, then confusion, and now it looks like he's broken. "I - I wanted to hurt you because . . . because I-"

"Because why, Derek?" I continue yelling. Something inside of me had snapped. Something that should've had snapped years ago when this all began; the questions I should have asked years ago. "Because you were, I don't know . . . jealous, and your fucked up mind thought that was a reason to destroy our friendship and torment me? The only reason I-"

"Because YOU destroyed me, Stiles." He yells back at me, matching the volume of my voice with his. I'm taken back for a minute. He hasn't used my first name in three years. I feel myself lighten hearing him finally say my name. "You let someone who doesn't even know the real you, touch you. You gave her something that should have been mine. It hurt in so many ways, so I wanted you to feel that pain. You deserved it, all of it."

You deserved it, all of it. I feel my eyes water at the edges, from the yelling the truth of how I've felt all these years and from how he believes that I deserve it. I force the watering to stop. I can't let the drop fall. Not now. All this pain, watching my best friend destroy me because I kissed another to try and rid the love I felt for him. "I hate you." I barely make out the words as they whimper out. 

The words I was never able to say, I don't even think I feel or mean them, I know I should. I don't know how to explain it; coldness rushed through my body once I had said the words. The words that affected me seem to have affected Derek too. Pain spreads across his face as is I had just walked up to him and punched him in the stomach. He turns his to the side for a moments or two, before looking back me with a stone cold expression. 

"That's perfect, Stilinski. Because I sure as fucking Hell hate you too." He spits back at me. 

I feeling of hearing those words; the hole it leaves behind, still hurts beyond anything anyone could say. I can't breakdown. Not here. Not now. "Good. Great." I respond, hoping that the pain I'm feeling doesn't show in my voice. "Two people who hate one another. So why don't you stop tormenting me; leave me alone, and I'll as far away from as possible. We'll go our separate ways"

The half hope that he would agree is vanquished when he steps forward. His stone cold eyes now heated and burning. "I don't fucking think so, Stilinski." 

Any other time I would have backed away until my back would be planted against the wall, but not now. I stand my ground as he walks over to me. Until he's standing right in front of me, with the tops of his feet touching mine. 

"I made one mistake, Stilinski. I had you. And thinking about how I had you; being inside of you . . . it's allI can think about. It's what I've wanted for over three years. So no, we won't be doing this 'we'll go our separate ways' bullshit. I plan to do what we did for a very, very long time. You're mine. And I don't plan to give that up anytime soon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My spelling mistakes have been awful lately. I apologise for that, and thank you all for letting me know :) I write the chapters first on my iPad Notes, usually late at night, and then rewrite everything on this the next day, so sometimes I get a word wrong :S I'll try and correct everything I mistake, but sometimes I just get too into it and spell incorrectly :L hahaha. 
> 
> The "reveal" of sorts that happens in this chapter, I wanted to get it out of way as soon as possible, so I could dive deeper into the possessiveness Derek has over Stiles, and another thing I have planned for this! >:D also, sorry for the shortness of this chapter! The next chapter will pick up where this one left off - what this chapter originally planned to be (bigger) :)


	5. Chapter FIVE

For three years I've wanted this. To be back in his room. The room where most, if not all, of my best memories were born. When I had snuck on my Dads beers and he both look big sips out of it, laughing at each other when we'd remove the can from out mouths and cough from the burn. It's where I could see him smile ear to war whenever he would see my drawings. Derek had often asked me to draw him drawings. What he asked me to draw for him was always random; a wolf, the tree between our rooms, an eye, even a drawing of me. Which was strange to draw myself. When I would climb across the tree, and through his window, he would always smile when I showed and gave him my drawing. 

I've wanted to be in this room again so bad, and I'm back. And it's the worst pain I have felt in a very long time. I don't think I meant it when I said I hated him. Think? No, I don't hate him. Even after everything, after all the Hell he has put me through, I should hate him. He deserves nothing but my hatred. But I can't. I don't know why . . . I just can't. But hearing him say it, 'I sure as fucking Hell hate you too', hearing him tell me he hates me in the halls at school; every time it felt like a knife digging into me, slowly. 

Now, all I want to do is run from this room. Forget that this Derek killed my Derek, forget what he had just said. So much is running through me, too much for teenager my age. The crushing feeling I feel now, I push aside, and focus on what I need. Anger. 

I stare up at him with all the anger I can manage. "I'm yours and you don't plan to give me up anytime soon?" I repeat what he just said in a mocking manner. "I'm not here for you to forcibly fuck whenever you're feeling bored with tormenting me. I'm not 'yours', Derek!" I yell back at him. 

Still towering over me, he manages to move closer. His shoulders broaden as his eyes burning with intense heat. "You are mine," he growls, "you've always been mine, and nothing will ever change that. You have tried to run from it when you kissed her, but -"

"Oh my fucking God!" I clench my fists into tight balls, feeling my frustration reaching breaking point. "I kissed her because I needed you out of my head, Derek. I needed a way to forget what I felt for you, because I was so afraid that it would destroy our friendship, that I would destroy our friendship. But the funny thing," I let out a humourless laugh, "the funny thing is that it was you that destroyed everything, not me. You. You with your;" I want to say his fucked up head. But I stop myself. "You started to hurt me because you couldn't deal with it; that I kissed another person, instead of talking to me about it? That's not what normal people do!" I draw in a shaking breath. "If you only just talked, it could have been so much different. I needed you so many times over the years. It could have been you and me, it could have been-"

"It still can . . ." He spoke in a quieter tone than before. 

"You raped me . . . you wanted to hurt me. Well, you did. In so many ways. You expect that it can continue? I can't . . ." I draw in another shaky breath. "For some fucked up reason I can't hate you; I still fucking -" I shake my head. No. Willing away the tears that are desperate to fall, "just let it end, Derek. Our friendship is shattered; there's no repairing it. Just -"

"Shut the fuck up Stiles. I will drive you to and from school everyday. You will sit with me during lunch in the cafeteria, and in class. You will not let anyone, especially that fucker, touch you. You will not speak to anyone other than me or my friends. The promise still hangs, Stiles. You will be mine, or I will hurt you beyond anyway you can imagine. Let this happen. Let what was meant to happen years ago happen." It's then that the will that was holding back the tears breaks, and tiny droplets begin to fall down my face. "Now get out of my room, and be ready before seven-thirty."

 

\-----

 

You really must have to know this feeling for yourself; what it felt like to cross that tree again. For those few moments crossing that tree, everything felt like that it used to be like. Feeling there heaviness under my feet as I carefully steady myself across the branches. Feeling the roughness of the bark under my hand as I round the large trunk of the tree. Walking across the tree, the tree that connected both of our lives, the feeling was almost enough to wash it all away. Almost.

Once I've climbed through my window, back into my room, everything breaks. I manage to make it to my bed before the tears finally escape their hold. Most people would look down upon a boy my age crying, but fuck those people. I feel everything at that moment. The pain of watching my former best friend stare at me with immense hatred. The pain of tormenting. The pain of him taking me in the worst possible way. All because I wanted-needed to forget my love for him. Because I kissed another, and hurt him. Is this all because of me? Because I was too afraid of the outcome that I was really the one who destroyed everything? 

I try to tell myself that no, it's not my fault. Non of this is. But the rational thinking part of my brain is outweighed by the pain. And soon I'm surrounded by nothing but my tears, and darkness.

 

\-----

 

I awake before my alarm sounds, feeling a heavy darkness weighing on my shoulders. I exhale loudly, rubbing my hand down my face, I don't need this. I've been through this too many times over the past few years. I need to keep buying it deeper. 

Picking a shirt at random from my closet, and grabbing a pair of boxers and sweat pants, I make my way out of the room to the bathroom. 

I stand there for awhile. The cold title pressed against my forehead, feeling the warm water fall onto my back. I don't move from my position for what seems like hours; quickly washing my hair, brushing my teeth, and washing my body, I step out. Not even bothering with styling my hair, I shove on the shirt I pulled from my closet - seeing now that it's a long sleeved dark red Henley, one of few Henley's I own. I pull on my boxers and the dark sweat pants, brushing my hand through my dark brown hair, watching the strands fall back over my forehead. 

Grabbing my phone up from my nightstand, I check the time. It was nearing seven-thirty. I had stood in the shower for almost a half an hour before washing my hair and getting out. Walking down the stairs, I glance a look out the window beside the door and I see him standing by his car, his phone in hand with his full concentration. I pull my head away from the window and lean it back against the door. He's waiting for me. I close my eyes as I exhale. 

I jerk forward at the sudden sound of Derek's horn being blasted. I look out of the window again and see him now, looking up at my house, towards my room, before getting in and closing the driver's side door. 

No point in prolonging the inevitable, I push forward and grab my backpack, glancing at the photo that hangs above it, like I do every time I pickup my backpack. I rake my hand through my hair, making sure it isn't too flat. It's a habit that whenever I don't style my hair to spikes at the front, I will run my hand through my hair; making it resemble that of bed hair.

Even though I had kept my eyes down as I opened the front door, closed it, and walked the way over to his car I could feel his eyes on me; the warm sensation on the back of my neck sending a cold chill down my spine. 

I continue to stare down, down at my lap, when I sit down in the passenger seat; my backpack resting at my legs. Derek doesn't start the car, or make a move to take his eyes off from me. Minutes pass before I hesitantly look up at him to meet his gaze. His eyes are heated, his lips are parted as he exhales loudly. The knuckles on the hand that's gripping the steering wheel turn white from the pressure. His voice is deep when he asks me his question. "Is your Dad home?"

I frown at the randomness of the question. Is he really trying for small talk? "Umm . . ." The sudden lump in my throat caused it to come out more as a choke than an 'umm'. I clear my throat and continue. "No, he's working the late shift. He'll be back later today." 

The burning intensity grows in his eyes, until they're blazing into me. The thickness of his right arm is thrown into my chest, locking both of my arms to the side of me. Panic runs through me as I look up at him, struggling against the hold he has on me. He breathes heavy as he leans in closer to me. His eyes leave mine and travel the short way down to my torso, starring deep at my shirt. Why is he so focused on my shirt? "Wh-" I begin, but I'm interrupted.

"You . . . you look-" he releases a deep growl before bringing his eyes back up to mine. I don't think I will ever see the storm green eyes I loved three years back. Whenever he looks my way they're always what they are now, dark. Either filled with hate, or . . . something else, they're always dark. Never green. "You've never worn one these shirts before." His voice continues to growl in a low tone. Confusion hits me hard. He's right, I don't normally wear Henley shirts, I usually stick to tees and plaid shirts, but so what? "You look . . ." The growling continues, but doesn't finish. It's then that I frown and turn my head away to the side, still struggling against his hold on me. I didn't care today, after last night, feeling the heaviness of it all add more weight, I didn't care to make myself look acceptable to society; pulled on shirt and pants, hair flat against my head, he doesn't need to say it, I look like shit. Although he has never said those words, not once in the three years, I know he must be thinking it.

The hold he has on me strengthens, I let out a grown as the muscled arm presses hard against my chest. The feeling of his other hand pressed against my stomach draws my head back. My face almost clashing against his. He had moved in closer, so close that our noses are less than an inch apart. "Wear them more." His warm breath hits my face as he continues to growl out his words. The confusion that had hit me before was nothing more than twig hitting me, now it's as if the full branch was swung at me. Wear them more? Does he . . . like me in Henley shirts? Why is he this close? He made that same threat he made the night he took me, I had told him I wanted to go our separate ways, it was a lie but he didn't need to know that. None of this makes any sense. What was wrong with him? And why was he staring at me like this? Even through the darkness before, there was the sliver of green, now it's nothing but darkness. I'm pulled from my thoughts when the hand that was on my stomach drops, grabbing the waistband of both my sweats and boxers, and yanks the front down with one motion. 

I struggle; push up against his hold, trying to escape it. "What are you doing - No!" My voice rising as the hand that held the waistband of my sweats and boxers now held a firm grip on the shaft of my cock. 

"Shh," is all he says, still holding his holding strong against my struggles. The one thing I have expected from Derek over the short years is pain; for him to hurt me in any way possible. That is what I was expecting now as his head comes in closer. The pain never comes. Only the warm wetness of his mouth wrapped around me.

I let out a loud gasp and buck my hips up. Of all the things, out of everything and anything he would have done; scream at me, hit me, head but me, fuck even bite me, even after he had taken my forcibly I never would have expected him to willingly do this. 

Reluctant pleasure floods through me as I feel his tongue run up along the underside of my now hardened cock. 

I throw my head back into the headrest as he starts to move his head up and down, his tongue swirling around my hardened shaft, flicking and sucking the head when his mouth draws up. 

For a few minutes all I felt was intense pleasure, the small space was filled with the noises of Derek's mouth on me mixed with the moans I try to keep silent. That it until I feel the oncoming of my release. "S-s-stop. I'm going to . . . I'm gunna-" he pulls up from my cock, his hand taking his mouths place and starts stroking in painfully slow movements. His face is now back in front of mine, inches apart. 

"Tell me," he breathes out in a slow husk, "who are you?"

"W-what?" 

The stroking on my cock takes on a furiously fast pace, only to stop seconds later. I moan, groan, and breathe out in frustration; the need for a release. 

"I won't let you come until you tell me who you are. Now, answer me. Who are you?" 

I don't understand. The sensation of what he is doing is clouding my brain, blocking out all rational and intelligent thoughts. The hold he had on me had weakened during the time he had his mouth on me, sucking. And I had not made a move to push his arm or his mouth away from me. Every thought, everything my mind shouted at me was nothing more than background noise compared to the need for a release. He called me it many times now. I never would agree with him, because after everything I don't think I can be, but it still comes out. "Yours." It's nothing more than a whisper. A whisper that he hears; his eyes take on a deeper heat, I'm surprised they're not black by now, and his mouth drops back down onto my cock and continues what he was doing moments ago. It takes seconds before I am again close to a release. Even with my warnings of what's about to happen, Derek never removes his mouth as I come. 

I throw my head into the headrest; his head raises up from my now spent cock, pulling my sweats and boxers back up, and sitting back in the driver's seat, never taking his eyes off from me. "Wear those shirts more." He says in a deep voice. What is with these shirts? I don't respond to him. I only sit there, feeling every thought and emotion explode inside of my head. So much is crushing against my head; questions upon questions without answers. But the one that shouts the loudest: why the fuck did you say you're his? I loved him once, yes. Very, very much. But I can't now. Not this Derek. Not the monster that was born because I had my first kiss with another person. And that's when it hits me again. I kissed her. Did I cause this? Was I truly the one to blame for killing my Derek and bringing this one into light? Was the reason why Derek's head was fucked up because of me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be the same day; them at school. First look at Derek's friends, more Scott, Derek being possessive at school, and maybe a lacrosse game. 
> 
> Just thought I'd mention: This isn't going to turn into a happy relationship story. I don't see their relationship ever returning to that; to when they were kids, but it will evolve into something else, don't worry >;)
> 
> Okay, so I checked while writing, there shouldn't be any simple spelling mistakes! >:D and if there . . . sorry :L hahaha.
> 
> Oh, and I hope Derek's messed up mind is being told well. He's possessive, controlling, and has certain things that make him uncontrollable; Stiles in a Henley for example - don't ask ;D hahaha.


	6. Chapter SIX

DEREK POV

 

He was where he belongs. 

He was finally by my side, where he should have been for the past three fucking years. He could have been there. This whole time, Stiles could've been by my side, to be mine, to be where he belongs. But he chose differently. He chose to give what was rightfully mine to another. He kissed some bitch who didn't know a single thing about him; about the real Stiles. Just thinking about that day, then day he destroyed me, makes me want to hurt someone. I had crossed the tree that joined our rooms that day to tell him I loved him. I couldn't hold it in any longer, it kept eating at me. I needed to tell him. And what was I met with? Him ripping everything out, and squashing it. 

He hurt me. My best friend, the person I would have done anything for, hurt me in ways words can't explain. So it was only fair that I would hurt him. I would hurt him the same way he hurt me; only worse. 

I took away everything, left him with nothing and no one. I made him a social outcast. Did I enjoy it? Yes, and no. I hated him with every bone in my body for what he did to me, that hate was the fuel I needed to torment him during school. To laugh when I would see tears fall from his eyes. To see the empty look on his face whenever I would call out to him in the hallway. And yet, it was never enough. The punishment, the tormenting, nothing would get him out of my head. Too many times I would come home from school, spending the day tracking him down and yelling out shit to him; causing everyone who was near to laugh, and look at his fucking drawings. 

I tried to trash them, I did. I wanted to. But again, something was holding me back. The drawings I kept in a folder, stashed underneath my bed, filled with his drawings; of animals, the tree that connects our rooms, and the one that I keep on my desk; a picture of me and him back when he was my best friend. I would always come back and look at them, remembering him. I didn't understand why, and it pissed me off. To the point I tormented him more because of it. 

I made it happen; I made it so he felt my pain. He was alone, because if I couldn't have what was mine. No one could. That is until some tried to take him away from me. They would talk to him during class or the hallways between classes, sometimes new kids who had just started. They thought they could have something that doesn't belong to him. I would find those who dared to try and take him away from me after school, and then the next day they didn't dare to try it again. 

He's mine. He has always been mine. I didn't intend to do what I did to him; take him by force. I wanted him to be in pain, but I took it by force, I wanted it to be when he was mine, truly. But that day Jordan had told me that his girlfriend, Lydia's friend, Malia, was sporting a large crush on what was mine. I had already began planning what I was going to do to make him pay for that, he didn't choose me, it was his fault. That already filling my system, seeing him that night, staring out his window at mine, it snapped. I couldn't hold it any longer. He was mine - he is mine. And I had to make him know that. 

And after that night, everything I had built up; his destruction for my pain, shattered. He was mine now. So when I saw that new fucker - Scott, touch him in class. I couldn't see anything but red. I fought hard to not just jump up from my chair, walk over to him, and brake every fucking bone in his hand, and then take Stiles right there on the table to show everyone that he is mine! If that fucker even tries to touch him, talk to him, or even look his way again . . . I don't think I'll be able to control myself. 

After three years of Stiles taking his punishment, it was a momentary shock when he had fought back last night . . . and what he told me. I didn't believe him, it was another one of his fucking mind games. Kissing another to get over the fact that he was in love with me? No. And then the fucking bullshit he was saying; going our separate ways because our friendship was too shattered? Fuck that. If he was in fact telling the truth, then I did this; destroyed him, for nothing. And the look in his eyes . . . I could always tell when he was lying or not, ever since we were kids. His eyes would turn a light brown whenever he would tell a lie to he Dad. They had stayed a deep brown: hurt, anger, tears screaming to fall. He wanted out? It was too late. Three fucking years we could've had; being mine like he should have always been. Now he's mine, and nothing will change that. I told him I would hurt him; made him a a promise that I would show him great pain if he tried to walk away from me. It wasn't a lie . . . 

So fuckers like that Scott . . . anyone who dares to try and take him. They'll fail. 

I planned on showing that Stiles was mine today at school. My initial plan had been to throw him up against the lockers before first period and mark his neck with my mouth. That would send a clear message to everyone that Stiles was mine, and God fucking help anyone who dares to take, cross, or hurt him. 

The plan had all but slipped from my mind the moment he walked out of his house looking like he did. His dark brown hair, usually spiked at the front, fell down heavy and messy. Looking like he had just thrown on those cargo pants, and that Henley shirt. I never thought I would be drawn in by clothing, but Stiles wearing a Henley did something to me. If only he knew how much he affected me, back when we were best friends, when I was tormenting him, and now . . . if only he knew. I needed him, I needed his taste. I pinned him against the passengers seat, pulled down his cargo pants, and took what's mine in my mouth. Longing for the taste I've desired for so long. The moment his taste hit my tongue, it was done. I would never get enough. I would take down any who stand in my way of it. 

Like yesterday, everyone's attention seemed to be drawn when I walked in with Stiles by my side, like no one else had anything better to do than stare. As much as the attention Stiles was getting annoyed me, I reminded myself this was good. Stiles was mine. I had wanted to shove him to the lockers and mark his mouth, I still might, but this school -everyone knew I was the one in control, that I was the Alpha of Beacon Hills High. That's why it was so easy when it came to destroying Stiles - anyone would have to be stupid to cross me. 

Already knowing his schedule for the day; English first, the same as me, I place my right hand on his back, just below his neck. Feeling him tense underneath my touch, pushing the annoyance at that away, I begin to guide him to the classroom. 

Stiles must have noticed this because he spoke up. "I um, I need to goto my locker." 

Keeping the hold on him strong, even when he tried to move away from it, I changed directions in the hallway, and walked towards his locker. By the time we get to the classroom word would already have spread about what I'm doing. I was never kept in the dark about what goes on at this school, what gets said, what's going to happen. I had heard the quiet whispers from the curious few who wondered by I made it my soul purpose to make Stiles's life Hell; that I had a thing for him, and I was doing it for his attention. So far from the truth, yet close to it. 

With my shoulder rested against the locker besides Stiles's, I crossed my foot at my ankle, and watched as he removed books from his backpack and into his locker, and vice versa. Watching his movements, his hands, his face, I see he's moving slow. Knowing how smart he is he must know that I intend that he does sit with me during class, and not next to that fucker. 

As if the asshole could read my thoughts, he decided at that very moment that he would would past Stiles and I; towards the class he shared with us. A stupid smile broke out across his demented jaw as his eyes meet Stiles. "Hey Stiles." he chimed out, walking past. Feeling my rage boiling, I watch as his stupid smiling self continues past. He really thinks he's going to take what's mine, doesn't he? Seeing now that people are still looking out way wearing curious and confused looks. Seeing me with him isn't enough. Fuckers like Smiles just don't seem to get it. There's one thing left I can do that will claim Stiles as mine in the eyes of everyone at this school; my first plan. 

I wait until Stiles has finished with his books and shutting his locker before I make my move. pulling his backpack back over his shoulder; getting a good grip on it, he turns away from the locker, unknowingly stepping into my hold. Taking ahold of his shoulder, I push him back until his back is pressed up against his now closed locker. Stepping in close, so close that our faces are inches apart, I look down at him as he looks up at me; shock, fear, and anger flood through his eyes. He doesn't hate me, I can see that. But there is pain mixed with anger. What I'm about to do with add to that mixture. But I don't fucking care, he's mine. And I'm going to take what was stollen from me three years ago. 

I slam my lips onto his. pressing down hard; both my hands gripping hard at his shoulder, and my face pressed up against his. I feel as his body becomes rigid and his muscles tighten. Annoyed, I instantly press myself against him harder, my tongue suddenly pushing against his pressed lips, wanting in. I was finally getting what was mine, what was mine from the very beginning. Hearing the gasps and voices behind my back, I know I had succeeded in my plan to make Stiles mine; fuckers like Smiles won't dare to go near him. 

What was meant as a sign of possession; this kiss a symbol to all that he's mine, suddenly changes. His body, that's held to lockers by mine, begins to loosen and slump. Which I should be ideal; it should mean that he's accepting the fact that he's mine. But as his defences drop, I feel mine begin to drop too. I immediately pull away from his mouth, keeping my hold on him. I frown as I look down at him, he is too wearing a similar expression. What the fuck is he doing? How is he - who am I kidding . . . he's always been the one who could do this, the one who really had power. But there's no fucking way I'll let him ever know that. Staring down into eyes, my thoughts running a mile a minute; trying to bring my defences back up, I can't see what he's feeling. Pulling his shoulder with me as I walk towards English. Anger filling my system, I set a hard tone to my voice; masking my fallen defences. "It's about time you gave me what's been mine from the start."

 

STILES POV

 

I don't . . . there's no words to describe today.

The stares shouldn't bother me. For three years I was often stared at by everyone, probably hoping to see if I would break down like the times I had before, or they were just waiting to see what Derek would do to me next. But even then everyone would get bored and look away from me. Now . . . now I feel the weight of stares from hundreds of eyes. He wouldn't leave me alone. He hates me but he wants me as his... it doesn't make sense. None of this does. Not what he did to be this morning. Not what I had said to him afterwards. Not even the fucking kiss before English. I felt myself give into him. After everything, I still gave into him. I tried to keep my distance today, tried and failed. I had tried to to sit in my regular spot in History; second row, in the middle. But before I was even in seating position, I was yanked up by my bicep and dragged by him to the back row. English, History, and PE. Those were the classes I will have to sit next to him. 

I needed to get to Jocelyn's room. I needed to draw. I couldn't goto the cafeteria. 

Derek had told me to wait for him after each class. Knowing that if I didn't wait for him I would make him mad made me hesitant at first, but going into the cafeteria again, feeling the stares casted my way, sitting with the people I once called friends . . . I couldn't.

I had rushed from History, the first out the door, and made my way to the art room. Taking the long way, through and around the school, to avoid Derek and the cafeteria.

Thankfully I made it there without anyone noticing me. The thing that had been laughing and enjoying my suffering over the years must have shown my mercy today. 

Jocelyn was in the back room, eating her lunch with her headphones in; most likely listening to the heavy metal bands she grew up with. Most days were like this. I would come in at lunch, work on my drawings while she sat in the back room - office. Once or twice she had me listen to the music that was now blasting into her ears. I had given a convincing smile and told her that that the music was good. But most of the time she would leave me be, and would say goodbye when lunch was over.

Dumping my bag at my usual spot by the window, I gathered what I needed to work on my drawing; drawing included, and sat down to continue my work.

Only I didn't. I sat there and stared at it. The drawing of me and Derek when we were kids, back when everything was as perfect as perfect can be. I should hate him, I know. A normal person would. But there's still that part in me that loved him a great deal. You can't kill that feeling. You can only burry it in hopes that it'll never resurface. And I think I felt it this morning, digging its way back up to the surface. My first kiss with Derek was nothing what I had thought it could have been. But it was still that; my first kiss with Derek. I'm scared . . . but in the way you would think. I'm scared I'll let him in. That I will be what I had said this morning . . . his. 

Vibrations from my pocket pull me away from my thoughts. Reaching in and pulling my phone out of my pocket, I see that my screen is light up with a message. 

DEREK: WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?

Exhaling, and closing my eyes. I knew this was coming. But surely he'll understand why I couldn't sit in the cafeteria, bot with everyone staring at me . . .

ME: I didn't want to be in the cafeteria. 

Before I can even place my phone back in my pocket, and pick up a pencil, my phone vibrates again.

DEREK: WHERE. THE. FUCK. ARE. YOU?

What does it matter where I am? Anger and annoyance begin to fill my system. What, does he expect a constant whereabouts of my location now? Fuck, it was much simpler when he was tormenting me . . . huh, I'm now at the stage where I'm wishing he'd go back to tormenting me rather than . . . whatever the fuck this is. 

ME: I'm where I usually am during lunch.

I text back, before powering down my phone. Without a doubt he knows where I am. Although he had never come here during lunch to bully me, he always somehow knew where I was during the day. 

Picking up my pencil, I continue on my drawing and drown myself in drawing. It was always something I found peaceful to do. Everything else was just background noise; the feel of the pencil between my thumb and fingers, watching the lines of lead come alive under my hand. I needed this in my life. Not something I ever wanted to pursue as a career, I'm not as good as others are, but I needed it. It was my exit out of this reality when it became too hard. 

It's not until I hear his voice I realise what I'm drawing. "When I tell you to do something, you fucking do it and don't go against it!" He all but roars from the entrance to the room. I quickly turn my paper over, knowing it was not subtle at all, and raise my eyes to him and watch as he stalks his way over to me. Hopefully he's too angry to ask what it is that I'm drawing, and hiding. 

"I didn't want to sit in the cafeteria." I repeat what I had texted him a minute before. 

"When I say you wait for me after class," he says, ignoring me my words, "you wait! You don't go off to fuck knows where." He's said all this while he approached where I was seated. Now standing over me, his waist leaning against the side of the table, he stared down at me with an angered expression. 

Opening my mouth to respond back to him. Too confused and angry to comprehend, I have a few good words I want to say, but I wasn't given the chance. "Just don't, alright. I'm sick and fucking tired of hearing you say you're not. You're mine. If I have to tattoo it into your skin to prove it, I will. Now, why didn't you want to come to the cafeteria?"

Closing my eyes momentarily. Everything just keeps on piling on top of the other. I have so much to say to him, I don't what but it has to be said. But not now. I can't deal with this right now. I can feel myself breaking down by the minute. I decide to just answer him. Opening my eyes, "I didn't want everyone staring at me. Ever since yesterday, everyone keeps staring at me. It's . . . fucking annoying." I say honesty. 

A small deep chuckle comes from him, causing me to frown at him. "You'll sit at my table Monday, and everyday. I don't fucking care if you find it annoying that you're getting stared by everyone. What they're seeing is right; they're seeing that you're with me." My frown deepens from his words. It's too much, everything filling to brim. I don't know if I can hold it in much longer. I'm either going to breakdown, or explode. He continues, and what he continues with surprises me. "When I drive you home today, get changed. You're coming to my party tonight."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a few things I wanted to say: (:
> 
> \- Derek POV . . . :L I hope it was alright; hopefully how I wrote it it shows that Derek doesn't have what some would call a healthy mind. If you guys like, I could continue Derek's POV, or keep it Stiles POV :)
> 
> \- This might be considered a spoiler for what's coming, but I just wanted to tell you all what I have planned out already, so spoiler warning :P  
> Stiles and Derek's friendship was destroyed; Stiles kissed another to get Derek of his mind to save their friendship/Derek feeling betrayed and hurt so he decided to hurt Stiles as he was hurt - as you know. Derek then loosing control and taking what he has wanted for years - as you now know. Now: I'm kinda spit balling with it all; Derek's always been possessive of Stiles, now he's become obsessed, and will be constantly in Stiles's life - the tormenting will still be there. Stiles will become friends with Scott, and fear that Derek will find out. Stiles will fight back, and something bad might come from that. Derek's uncle will be introduced and will take a strong liking to Stiles. And I dunno, someone might die; someone close >;)


	7. Chapter SEVEN

DEREK POV

 

We should go our separate ways.

Even then the words angered me a great deal. Now? Looking down at the half finished drawing of when we were younger, it fucked me off beyond words. Again, his mind games. There was something he felt for me, he said he loved me, and yet he'd say to go our separate ways. How fucking dare he. 

I wasn't an idiot. I saw that he hid the drawing when I made my presence known at lunch today. He thought he could hide stuff from me. Little did he know that there's nothing I don't know about him. I knew about the drawings he drew when he wouldn't come to the cafeteria. He's always been mine, but when I had punished him for what he did, him keeping things to himself didn't bother me as much, but now . . . the continued mind games and hiding the drawing? He's going to pay for it; after tonight, I'm going to take what's been on my mind since I first took it. 

I don't plan on giving him the drawing back. Any of them; I took them all. He won't be going to the art room during lunch anymore. He'll sit next to me, fuck, on my lap if I want. Stile sitting on my lap would show to all that he's off limits; show that fucker he's mine. I'd loved to look over and see that smile on him face die when I would grind my lap up into his ass in front of everyone to see.

I have my plan for tonight. When I had dropped him off earlier, I told him again to change, and that he wasn't allowed to leave until I come and get him. I'm going to climb across the tree to his window, and grab him before everyone else arrives. Then, just like I had tasted him, I will give him a taste of me. By then people should start to arrive. He won't be leaving my side, at all tonight. And then when everything dies down and everyone goes home, I'll take him. This time as mine. This time on my bed, in my room. This time he will enjoy it. I needed to be inside him again. 

A taste isn't enough. Not anymore. It can never be enough. There will never be a time that I will not crave him now. To crave being deep inside him, how it should be. 

I had wanted to wait a little longer until I would cross the tree and give him a taste, but fuck it. 

Pulling a long sleeved plaid shirt over my grey tank, I pull open my window and cross the tree. It's then that I realise. It's all wrong. This tree was what tied Stiles's life and my life together. It should have been here, under; on it; against it, where I made him mine. Not when he forced me to break. It should've been on this tree when I took him. It was his fault it wasn't how I imagined it. Then urge to have him again; for him to taste me grew stronger. 

When I walked the way over to his window, I didn't hesitate. I pushed open his window, swung my leg over, and dropped the short drop into his room and saw him.

My plan to have him taste me, every ounce of anger in me, vanished when seeing him stand there; dressed in dark jeans, a plain white shirt with a green hoodie over it, with a dark jacket over the hoodie. This is the second time what ever this fucking affect he has one me strikes. And just like last time, I can't control it. Just as he turns and sees me, I lunge towards him.

 

STILES POV

 

Derek's parties weren't a rare occasion. Every other weekend music would blast from his house, and cars would line up down the street. One of the upsides of having a Dad that is the local Sheriff, the parties never went on after midnight. Of course I have never step foot into one of his parties, only ever suffered through the loud music and drunken voices. And now, here I am getting ready for one of Derek's parties.

I don't want to do this. I didn't want to be shown of as this Derek's possession. I want my Derek. The one I am most likely responsible for destroying. I can't and don't want this, and yet here I am, readying myself for the party. 

I don't - I can't . . . it's, everything is just too much. He said I was the one who had played the mind games? If that's the case, then what the fuck was he doing? He hates me one minute, then takes me by force the next. He then justifies it by claiming I'm his - that I have always been his. The blow job in the car, the kiss in front of everyone. All while threatening to hurt me in ways I can't imagine if I try to run away, or for help . . . I clench my eyes shut; the pressure against my temple throbbing. 

My body has never been able to stand the coldness. Even when others would be dressed in teeshirts and shorts, I'd somehow manage to be cold. The air outside was not cold, but it was not warm either, but my body decided to that it was cold. Pulling on a plain white tee, a greenish-blue hoodie over my tee, and then a dark jacket over it all, along with dark jeans. I looked okay, I guess . . . 

Why should I care how I looked for Derek - what the fuck am I saying? Of course I knew why. 

My fucked up head has never been able to rid of what I felt. No matter what I told myself, no matter what he did - and he did a lot, I could never stop - The sound of my window being opened pulled me away from my thoughts. Already knowing who it is, I don't turn around until I hear his feet land in my room. 

The attraction I feel for him has always been strong. Back when we were young, even before I knew how I felt for him, I always thought he was one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. Of course the attraction built overtime, to point I began to react to seeing him; my body would react to him. Even through the three years, his attractiveness still hit me . . . just like now. The moment I turned and saw him, wearing a tight grey tank with a long sleeved green plaid shirt over it and dark jeans, I felt my body react as I watched his green eyes darken. 

Why was he here so early? No cars or people had begun to arrive yet. Why - I'm shoved against the wall with his mouth on my neck before I could process another sentence, or ask him why he's here early. 

Instant pleasure floods through me as he starts to nip and kiss my skin. His lips travel from the side to under my chin, were his mouth shoves forward and latches onto my Adam's apple. A low moan escapes my throat, and I bring up my right hand. To stop him or grab ahold of him, I can't tell you. Both of his hands are on my wrist, holding them to the wall behind me, before I could do anything else. His head raises up from my neck, I feel the loss of his mouth on my neck and fight the whimper that threatens to escape. The look on his face, the darkness in his eyes, it's same as it was when we were in the car. Right before he . . . 

I let out a gasping moan as he grinds his hip against mine, his hardness rubbing against mine. My breathing becomes ragged as the need for him to do that again becomes intense. No this isn't what I want. It isn't right? Of course it couldn't be. Then if it's not, then why am I feeling this way, still feeling everything I felt for, "Derek . . ." I breathed out, unable to control myself. 

The look that he gives me makes me want to back away further into the wall; the look of primal emotion. The only word that is spoken next is by him, "Mine," he growls, before grabbing ahold of my head with both of his hands, then slamming his lips onto mine. The growl that escapes from me; matching his, as his tongue slides along my bottom lip, before pushing against my lips, wanting in. I don't know when, but my hands had found his plaid shirt and had balled up tight, holding onto him? Fuck questioning this right now, what I was feeling outweighed the impending explosion in my head. 

The firm lock I had on my lips began to loosen when a knock as my door came, right before it opened. 

"Stiles, I'm going to be working tonight. There's chicken in the fridge if you wan-oh . . ." Dad came to a stop, his mouth still hanging open from the sentence he was halfway through, staring at a sight that would shock anyone. Derek's hands were still framing the sides of my face, while mine were holding the side of his shirt. 

Derek was the first to move. He removed his hands from my face, moving around so that the hold I had on him let loose, and stood a foot away from me to face my father. "Good evening, Mr-I mean, Sheriff Stilinksi," Derek spoke to Dad in a clam deep voice. As if he hand't just been caught with his mouth on his son. 

Dad, who was still lost for words, only stared at Derek. Clearing his throat, he ignored Derek's word and looked towards me. "Stiles. May I see you in the hallway, please." Turning on his heel and walking out of my room.

I don't look to Derek, I keep my head down as I follow my Dad out into the hallway. Closing my door as I go so Derek doesn't hear the pending conversation. 

I don't know what's coming. I'm expecting the worst. I never told my Dad how I felt for Derek. I mean, how could I? I follow his steps until they reach the top of the stairs. Oh, he might push me down the stairs. At least that'll rid me of the bomb that is my confusion that's very close to erupting. I end my step just as he turns and faces me, anticipating the loud volume of his voice. Wait. This could be it. I know. I know Derek threatened to hurt me a great deal if I told anyone what he did - what he's still doing. But if Dad is angry for what he just saw, maybe I could - 

"Finally," he spoke in his normal tone, with a grin.

Wait, what? "What?"

"Oh c'mon, Stiles," he said with a chuckle. "You and Derek was bound to happen. In all honestly, I'm only surprised it took you two this long to finally make it happen." I don't know what to say to that. It was bound to happen? Had he had known this whole time how I felt about Derek? I know he was confused as to why we stopped talking three years ago, but I never knew he knew how I felt about him. And finally make it happen . . . if only he knew how it happened. I could tell -

As if reading my mind a moment ago, he smiles, and continues talking. "Yes, Stiles. I've known how you've felt about Derek for a very long time. Whenever he would come over, and climbed that goddamned tree, I would see the way you smiled at him. As if he was your whole world . . . the same way your mother used to smile at me," his smile broadens remembering Mom, a smile would tug at my lips too if this moment wasn't happening, "But I need to ask you a question. Are you being safe?"

"Ah. Dad." I groan out. Before being hit in the chest with a realisation that he didn't use protection that night. I keep my shock masked, and keep the 'disgusted' frown on my face. 

"I have to ask that, Stiles. I only want you to be safe."

Ignoring it all together, I doge the question all together and ask, "So, you're okay with . . ." with what, exactly? What are we? Derek says I'm 'his', I can't ask Dad if he's okay with me being Derek's possession . . . 

"Yes, Stiles. I am okay with it. We all are, for years we've known and been waiting," he brings up his wrist and stares at his watch. All? Does he means Talia, Derek's Mom, too? How is it everyone knew how I felt for Derek, but didn't notice how he tormented me for three years! "I'm running late. Alright, have . . . fun? Wait no. Be safe." He says, meeting my once again frown at his referral, before walking down the stairs, grabbing his coat and shutting the door behind him.

 

\-----

 

Derek had not let me leave his side the entire time. From when we climbed across the tree, when people began to arrive, to now, he had kept his hands on me. 

I didn't know how to handle this situation, or the one from earlier, but I had pushed that away for later. Surrounded by the people I once knew who I considered friends once, and people I've never spoken to. 

It was surprising that they actually looked at me, but it was nothing compared to when they spoke to me. These were voices I had only heard in passing in the past three years. It says a lot about my "friends"; that they would just push me out at Derek's command. I know you'd say I deserved better, but I did consider them friends, I was getting to know them . . . I just hurt to walk past them and pretend to not feel alone, you know? And I'm talking to myself about it now. Awesome. The breakdown has finally begun.

The hands Derek had at my side wrapped around me tighter as he leans his face in closer into my neck from behind me. Just as people had begun to arrive, Derek and removed my jacket, leaving me in only my white tee and hoodie, he too also removed his plaid shirt, leaving him in only his grey tank. 

It's been like this for hours. If it wasn't just his hand on my shoulder, keeping me at his side. It was this: his hands wrapped around me with his mouth at my neck. I would be lying if I said it felt wrong. It felt . . . right? I don't know. I know what he did to me, and I'll never forgive him for that. For any of it, but it was my fault he destroyed our friendship, wasn't it? No, of course not, Stiles! . . . but maybe. No. I inwardly shake my head, and focus on everything around me.

We're standing around the kitchen island; the familiar dark wood with black granite countertops now littered with empty-half filled plastic cups and shot glasses. Beside us; closest to Derek, Jordan Parrish: Derek's . . . best.. friend, stood with his girlfriend in his arms. Lydia Martin, the mathematical genius, was gorgeous. Three years ago, her and Allison Argent, who was currently standing beside her boyfriend, Jackson Whittemore, smiling, were the two I was growing closest to the most. Every once in a while, Allison would cast a quick smile my way, which only had confused me. The confusion only doubled when she and Lydia had smiled and begun to talk to me as soon as they saw me.

It was almost they were thrilled to see me, and talk to me when they arrived, but not surprised I was there. Now that I think of it, the looks I had received from people tonight weren't surprised looks. They were just looking; the same look everyone casts Derek whenever he walks down the hallway at school. So, I guess it was now official that everyone believes that I'm now Derek's. That I'm . . . with him. 

And to tell you the truth, I don't know how I feel about that. I can't grasp any logical sense, to any of this. I do something to him, I'm not that stupid to not see that. But I don't blame myself for what he did to me. That was on him. What I don't know if I should blame myself on is our destroyed friendship. A part says it's on Derek. That everything is all on him. But then it was me who didn't tell him how I felt, of course unknowing of how he felt; the same way, and kissed another to try and get passed my feelings . . . 

My fucking feelings.

That's what's to blame. 

I didn't want to tell Derek my feelings towards him, fearing his reaction. I kissed another to get rid of said feelings. Even now, what I felt right now . . . I don't understand them. To have his hands wrapped around me, his nose nuzzling against my neck, it was everything I had wanted, before everything went to shit. But now. Now I don't know what to feel. Anger at what he did to me, and won't leave me alone? Disgust that I'm currently wrapped around in his arms? Pleasure to be with the person I love - loved? 

. . . I just, I don't know!

I needed air; I needed to get away. I needed to splash water across my face, or something. I need to think. 

I push forward, away from his chest. His arms tighten around my body, and he lets out a low growl that only I can hear. 

"Where do you think you're going?" He whispers into my ear. 

"I need to goto the bathroom. Well, you know, unless I'm not allowed to." I answer him.

He quietly chuckles in my ear. "Be quick. I'm rather enjoying having my arms wrapped around you; having you pressed up against me." He releases his hold on me, and I instantly move forward. Stepping away from him.

The living room off from the kitchen was were the priority of people were. Now drunk, and moving their bodies together to the music, it took a while to weave my way through the bodies, towards the stairs. 

Once up the stairs, I made my way towards the bathroom. There were only a handful of people up here, no one near the bedrooms; only standing around near the stairs. Perfect to get the space and think about . . . well everything. Rounding the corner, I did not expect to collide into something solid. 

Taking an off balance step backwards, a strong hands takes hold of my arm to keep me steady. 

realising now that I had just walked into somebody, I raise my head and look up into the smiling tanned faced of Scott. 

"Hey, Stiles." He says with the smile that's always present of his face.

"Hey, Scott," I respond back, now talking at look at him. He's dressed in a weird printed grey button up; the first two buttons left undone, and dark jeans. He looks . . . he actually looks nice. But, why is he here? Derek had made it blunt that he did not like Scott. "Why are you - what are you doing here . . . at Derek's?" I ask him. 

The smile on his face takes a hard fall, and he steps in close to me. "What are you doing here, Stiles?" His voice had dropped. I frown, and open my mouth to question what he meant, when he continued. "I asked about you, and I know that Derek has bullied you for three years. I was told about some of the horrible things he's done to you over the years," I want to ask who told him. Because as far as I knew, most of the school was either too loyal towards Derek, or too afraid of him to ever speak out against him, "and I know, I just know you don't deserve that." He said, now with concern in his eyes; his hold on my arm tightening. Confused . . . I swear I'm nothing but confused these days. He continues. "Then after hearing about everything, I see that you're with him; he's kissing and holding onto you. But I have to ask, are you letting it happen for a reason? Is this part of a plan to get back at him? Because if it is, I want to help. For you. I'll help you take him down."

 

DEREK POV

 

Fuck, he felt good in my arms. 

To hold his warm lean body to mine, and run my nose along his neck and smell his hair, in front of everyone. It felt so fucking amazing. The perfect message to anyone, to back the fuck off from him. Mine. He was all mine. And I needed him, again. 

Tonight, it had to happen. I had taken him once when I had lost control, but tonight, he'll want it. Now that Mom was at her boyfriends, and if Cora stayed in her room - or stayed out, wherever the fuck she was, I could take him numerous times tonight. 

I felt myself begin to harden at the thought I having him in my bed; naked, sweaty, screaming my name out in pleasure as I pound him into the mattress. 

Fuck!

I need him. Now. 

Turning my back on my friends, as both of them have their mouths locked on their girlfriends, I shove my way through the crowd, and reach the staircase. 

Pressing a hand to my crouch to relive the pressure. Fuck, this effect Stiles has on me - has always had on me, no one has ever had this power over me. If only he knew what he could do to me, that I had to destroy him because he almost destroyed me. No, I don't think I could handle it if he knew the power he had. I can't loose this power, because if he knew, he could leave. I will keep this power and I will keep him! He's never leaving, he was never going to leave. He's mine. Forever.

Walking down the upstairs hallway, I round the corner towards the bathroom to where Stiles was, but stop dead in my tracks at the sight in front of me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the first episode of Season 5 . . . Scott writing AA underneath his initials, and Stiles noticing Derek's; D.H. The episode killed me! :L haha.


	8. Chapter EIGHT

STILES POV

 

A moan escapes from my mouth as his teeth bite down on my neck. The coldness on the tiled wall is felt on my face; being shoved up against the wall, with his body close behind mine. The hands that gripped the skin at my waist tightened as his biting turned to sucking. My boxers and jeans had already been shoved down to rest midway down my thighs. That had been the first thing Derek had done when pulling me into the bathroom. His followed right after. He was angry, no, he was furious at me. I could tell that when he had wrapped his arms around me when he found Scott talking to me. Luckily he had heard nothing of Scott had said. Derek had wrapped his arms around my body moments after what Scott had said. 

When Derek had asked Scott what he's doing here, his body had tensed hard at Scott's response: "I'm talking to Stiles". It was then when Derek's head had dropped, his mouth to my ear, and had ran his lips along the shell of my right ear. I had kept my eyes focused on the floor, not daring to meet Scotts face. I don't know why Derek's like this. I don't know anything, other than I'm about to explode. I can't hold this - all-everything - in any longer. Derek's head, how he acts, why he's doing this. What he's told me, it's . . . Argh! I can't do this anymore. I really can't. I have survived losing my best friend to watch him turn into a monster, for that monster to torment me for three years, but this, this is what's finally breaking me? What's wrong with me...

The sound of spit doesn't register with me, not until I feel his slick fingers push into my entrance, pulling me back into reality. Another moan escapes from my mouth as he pushes in another finger. Wasting no time, and starts thrusting his fingers in and out. The biting and sucking at my throat stops for the first time since he had pulled me into the bathroom. His mouth now at my ear level; a deep growl is all I hear before the third finger is forcibly met with the other two. Clenching my teeth does little to hide the pain mixed with pleasure. 

"When will they all learn," Derek speaks for the first time since pulling me in here; his voice in a deeper tone than usual, "that this," he thrusts his fingers with more strength, a sound mixed between a whimper and a groan leaves my mouth, "is mine! And if I have to fuck you in front of the entire town, I will. I fucking will! Because you're mine. And I will fucking kill anyone who takes you from me, and then I'll kill you for letting it happen." His fingers suddenly leave me, and not a second later, his thickness is replacing his fingers. Loud groans cry from my throat. This was the first time doing this since he had forcibly taken me that night, and now it's same, but different. 

His hands rise up to grip hard at my ribs; his thrusting getting harder. "Say it." He growls out close to my ear. "Say what you are. Say it. Say who you've always been." 

No words leave my mouth. Only the sounds of groans from the pain... and pleasure. Hearing no response from me other than my groans, he thrusts into me with more strength. "SAY. WHO. YOU. ARE!" He yells loudly, each word met with a hard thrust into me. 

Turning my head so that my forehead rests on the cool tiled wall, feeling the hands at ribs clench and grip harder; pain floods through my body, I tell him what he wants me to say - what I think I really want to say. "Yours," it comes out out in a whimper through his hard thrusts. 

Derek pauses his movements. His hands still holding tight at my side. "What did you just say?"

"Yours." I exhale softly; my eyes falling shut. "I'm yours."

I'm suddenly shoved forward by a powerful thrust, my right check pressed against the tile; with my face now facing towards the mirror. I now have vision of Derek behind me: his face buried at the back of my neck; the muscles of his biceps stick out as he holds onto me; his jeans resting above mid thigh, his imagine matching mine: my hands pressed up against the wall, clenching at the tiles due to the pain; with my jeans the same as his. Moans begin to escape my throat as the pleasure starts to outweigh the pain. 

His thrusts get harder with more power, before his body slams against mine with full-force; a loud, deep growling moan is released from behind me. The warmth of his release filling me, causing me to shudder. 

For a few moments hard breathing was the only thing heard apart from the noises of the party downstairs, before Derek suddenly pulls out of me, turning me and slamming my back against the wall. His hand wrapping around my cock that I didn't know until now was hard, and his mouth landing on my throat. Intense pleasure from both my cock being stoked at a fast pace, and my throat being sucked. 

The moment doesn't last long. 

He hands leaves my cock, but his mouth lingers on my throat a little longer, before pulling back to meet my eyes.

"As much as I love you smelling like I have just claimed you, you need to clean yourself." Derek says, with his fingers running along the edge of my jawline. "Take a quick shower, and come down. I quite enjoyed having your body pressed up against mind earlier." A smirk appears on his face, his mouth falls back onto mine for a quick minute. He removes his mouth from mine, pulling his jeans and boxers back up, and walks out. Leaving me in the bathroom.

I stand there for a few minutes before moving. Turning to right wall that has the mirror, I see my self. My jeans and boxers still sitting at my thighs. A large purple bruise, surrounded by bite marks paint my throat. Again. It had happened again. I wanted to be strong; I wanted to fight back against him. But I'm weak. I let this happen again, and fucking Hell. There was . . . there was a moment I . . . that I liked it. It was with him. The person I have loved for so many years, the person I would have done anything for. What's wrong with me? 

Is this a plan to get back at him?

Scott's words echo in my head.

Because if it is, I want to help. For you. I'll help you take him down.

Was he serious? He'd help me take Derek down; get back at him . . . wait. I can't be considering this? 

No.

That wasn't me.

I'm not the type of person who torments others. I'm the type of person who sets out to make someone else's life a misery. I'm not what Derek has become. I'm better than all that. I don't fight back. I let it happen, so it'll pass. I'm . . . I'm weak. 

Looking into the mirror, seeing the weakness. I scowl at myself, at who I am. I don't want to be this. I can't. I can't be this anymore. I love him - I loved him. I correct myself. And there was a time when I wanted to be with him; wanted to be everything to him. But not like this. Not with this monster. 

I can't continue with this. I don't like who I am anymore. He can't get away with this. For everything. He took away three years, and spent them tormenting me. Friendships end. I told myself that a lot throughout the tree years. As hard as it was, I could understand that. But I can't understand this; that he stole what wasn't his.

I'll help you take him down. 

Derek has taken everything from me. No matter what I feel - felt, fuck Stiles. No matter what I felt, I just can't. I don't know what will happen if I let this continue. I've been miserable and depressed for too long. Thinking I wasn't worthy of having friends. Of being his friend. I don't want to feel that again. I don't want to feel this. 

I never wanted to hurt him. I've only ever wanted to be with Derek, to be everything with him. Now. Now I just want him gone. Scott will help me with a plan I've never wanted to have? I'll let him. I don't know how, but I'm going to make Derek pay for this. For three years. For taking what wasn't his. For killing my best friend. Derek is going to pay for this. For everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy writer's block! I could not get this chapter up. I'm sorry for that, I just couldn't get the beginning correct - hated everything I wrote! I changed it four times before I was kind happy. Also I had a major teeth ache for a week; my molar and canine decided they hated me and wouldn't stop painfully hurting, so that delayed everything :L - sorry this chapater was short and sucky. I just couldn't get this to work D:


	9. Chapter NINE

\- DEREK POV -

 

 

"Fuck!" I moan out in beautiful fucking pleasure, pushing my entire length into Stiles' perfect tightness. "So fucking tight, Stiles . . . fucking perfect. Mine. This is my perfect tightness." I move in and out of him, thrusting into him hard. Harder than the night I had taken what's mine the first night.

It was finally happening. I fucking what was mine on my bed. 

When I had came down from the bathroom earlier, the party had begun to wind down. One of the upsides of living next to the Sheriff. I didn't have to play host to all these fucking people who worship the ground I walk down for too long. 

Fifteen minutes. It took fifteen fucking minutes for everyone to fuck off. In that time Jordan had 'congratulated' me on finally being with Stiles. Saying that "it was about time". He and Lydia had a small laugh at his comment. Jordan was not Stiles. Stiles was everything I have ever wanted. But out of all who I had let in, he was the one I hated least. 

Just as Jordan and Lydia had been walking out the front door, Stiles had chosen to walk down stairs. Seeing him; his hair damp from the shower; wearing only his white tee and jeans, my body erupted. My cock hardened just from him freshly out of the shower. Whatever - whomever was the cause for creating him, and making it so that he was mine, I could not thank enough. He was beyond fucking perfect. 

Shoving Jordan and Lydia out the door, and dragging Stiles back up the stairs. Fuck the clean up. Mom'll do it. I make him wait outside the door like last time he had been in my room. I had to place the framed photo of us face down, and shove the drawings I took from his art class in the draw. Once I had done that, I had grabbed him from the hallway and slammed my mouth onto his. He was still reluctant. Which fucking pissed me off. He's mine. No one else has this reaction over me. We were fucking made for each other. And he was still fucking denying that.

Picking up his thigh, I throw it over my shoulder. I wrap my around around his thigh and grab ahold of his cock in a tight grip. I stroke him as fast as my hand can possibly move as I pound into him without remorse. My free hand comes up to his chest. I grasp hard at the pectoral, massaging it. My thumb roughly pressing against his nipple. Perfect sounds of moaning left his mouth, before I capture it with my mouth. 

My tongue explored everything that is mine as I fucked into him. Harder, and harder. Until Stiles' body jerks up, moaning into my mouth, and I feel the warmth of his realise coat my hand. That had been the point I came to my end. Pleasure like nothing I have ever felt before. I erupted inside of my Stiles. 

I fall down beside him, still inside his perfect tightness, and warp my arms around him. My face falls to the back of his neck. The smell of everything that is Stiles fills my nose. Perfect. Fucking perfect. Everything was falling into place. Stiles was now mine. Reluctant or not, he's mine forever. But there's still others out there who want to take him from me. Like that fucker Scott. Stiles was mine. And everyone will know that. Soon Stiles, in the eyes of every single fucking person, will be mine. He will soon share my name. 

 

 

\- STILES POV -

 

 

"Here, wear this." Derek says to me, as he throws me one of his shirts.

I had not meant to sleep here. But after last night. What he did to me . . . I had passed out after Derek had wrapped his arms around me. I had never felt like that before. Something imploded inside of me. I have never felt pleasure like that before. But it didn't change anything. I had to - no, I needed to kill this Derek. I needed Scott. He'd offered to help me take him down. And I will. I can't let Derek go unpunished for this. 

I mumble a thanks, and pull the shirt over my head. It's one of his Henley's. A black one that would usually hug his body, but hangs off mine like an extra large shirt. I'm sure I look ridiculous. Messy bed hair I hand't bothered to make look good, a large Henley shirt, and creased jeans from last night. I look up to Derek to see the same look he had given me last night. His eyes were dark. His hands were clenched at his sides in tight balls. 

"Fuck!" He growls out, shutting his eyes and looking away. 

I don't know what's wrong with me, but a sudden urge rushes through me. An urge to test my luck. The step I take forward isn't missed by Derek. His eyes reopen and stare directly into mine. 

I don't know how long it was we were standing there for; until a knock at the door broke us apart. 

"Derek," Talia's voice spoke through the door. It had been a long time since I had spoken to her, and Cora. "You're going to be late if you don't hurry up."

"Okay, Mom." Derek's voice spoke out in a more deep voice than usual. He didn't say another word until Talia's footsteps could be heard going back downstairs. "What the fuck have you done to me?" He breathes out.

"The same thing what you've done to me." I exclaim. Surprising myself. What am I doing? What the fuck am I doing? I'm acting like I . . . like I want this. That I can be with this Derek. Be with? No. I want my best friend back, I want - wait . . . I know what I need to do. I need to hurt him. He has tormented for three years. He took it all away because I had kissed another to get over him. He felt something for me. Whether it's love - like - Hell, even obsession. Whatever. It's time for my move. I have to talk to Scott.

 

 

"Oh my God! Is that you Stiles?" Talia all but yells as we make our way down stairs. I generally smile at her as she comes in and wraps her arms around me. Hugging me tight. I look over her shoulder to Cora, who looks shocked to see me here, but smiles nonetheless. A smile I return. I don't notice him until Talia begins to pull back. A well muscled man is seated at the table Cora is at. It couldn't be Derek's. He died years ago. "It's been so long! You two, I'm so happy for you two!" She beams with a bright smile. Jesus. First Dad and now Talia. Everyone assumed Derek and I would be together? Well . . . they didn't know what he had become. 

I feel warmth spread across my checks, for some reason I can't explain. Shy? Shy over what. You don't have feelings for him Stiles. Not after it all; not for what he is. You don't, Stiles! You know what you need to do! 

"Thank-" I begin.

"We need to go. We're late already." Derek says from behind me, grabbing me and gently moving me out the door. A show for his family.

"Have a good day, hunny. You too, Stiles. It was great seeing you again." Talia says. She had always been great. She had treated me like I was a Hale myself.

"You too," I call back over to her, waving. I look over to her and wave at Cora - who returns it. Just as I was out the door my eyes caught the man seated at the table. He was watching me intently. A slow grin was spreading across his face. His intense eyes watched me from across the room. He was definitely a Hale. Just not one I can ever remember Derek mentioning. 

 

 

"Hey, Stiles!"

That had been the eighth hello I had received today. "'Sup, Stiles." Ninth. It had to be Derek. What am I saying? Of course it was him. It was no secret now that I was 'with' Derek Hale now. Before no one would even look my way in fear of Derek. Now though it's like I'm a regular student walking the hall. It pissed me off to no end. It's not real. None of these people were. Like sheep they followed Derek's every command. 

But this isn't what's important. I needed to find Scott. I had to let him know. 

Everyone was heading towards the cafeteria. I had gotten a text from Derek saying that I'm sitting in the cafeteria with him from now on. I had to move fast or he'd come looking for me. And he can't know. God knows what he would do. 

Just as I rounded the corner I catch sight of the dark hair and tanned skin. 

I make my over to him. A smile breaks out on his face, and he begins to form my name on his lips. But I grab his arm and pull him away before he can say anything. 

I don't let go of his arm until I find an empty classroom. I open the door and pull him inside. Closing it behind him.

"What's going on Stiles?" Scott asks me when I turn from the door. A concerned look on his face.

I take in a deep breath. "At the party. Do you remember when you asked if I was . . . with Derek because I was working a way to get back at him?"

Scott nods his head.

"I wasn't then. I wasn't actually thinking of anything like that. But now. But now I want to," His eyes widen at what I say. "He can't get away with what he's done. I have a plan to get back at him . . . will you help me?"

"Yes. Yes, of course I will, Stiles." He says, as he takes a step forward. "What's you plan to get back at him?" He asks the question I've been waiting for.

As I tell him what I'm going to do, a frown takes place on his face. To point he lowers it. I don't know what I had been expecting. Maybe a smile? Maybe a 'wow, that's dangerous, Stiles'? What I didn't expect was to receive this look from someone I wanted to call a friend. "Stiles . . ." He says in a different tone than before, lightly shaking his head. 

He opens his mouth to talk some more, but was interrupted as the door to the classroom swung open...


	10. Chapter TEN

\- STILES POV - 

 

 

"What are you two doing in here?"

Scott and I both turn towards the now opened door. Mr. Madden stood there, with a frown on his face.

"Nothing, sir," Scott is quick to answer. "We were just talking. We'll leave now." He says, now gently pushing me past Mr. Madden. Whose frown turned to a suspicious look. As I am pushed out the door by Scott, I hear the door the classroom is shut behind me. I don't know if it was Scott and Mr. Madden who had shut it. I didn't have time to check. Scott was quick to pick-up the conversation. 

"You can't do this Stiles. It's . . . it's not safe. Not to mention stupid! What if he finds out?"

What my plan against Derek was... it wasn't me. It wasn't who I was. But I can't let this continue. He's made it so I've been alone for so many years. I had no one! No one on my birthdays. No one there for me on those horrible days. It was only me. Because of him. Years of torment from him. And now. Now it's coming to an end. 

He's . . . I don't know. I guess you could say he's obsessed with me? I know there's something. That was my plan. I will become what he wants; do as he says; be what he wants. And when the time comes. When I have the power. I will destroy him: use what he feels for me against him. 

It's not me. It's not who I ever wanted to be. But you can only push someone so far before they snap. I was ready to explode. What better way; channel it into this. Into destroying the monster that took over the best friend I loved. 

I let out a deep sigh. "I'll make it so that he doesn't find out what we're doing." I tell him. The worried look still on his face. I let out another sigh, this time pinching the bridge of my nose. "Look, Scott. I . . . need you for this. Are you going to help with this, or not?"

"Yes, Stiles. I will. I hate the guy just as much as you do." Scott says. For some reason that caused a reaction from me. And not the reaction I wanted. Just as Scott had said he hated Derek as much as I do, my back had clenched up; a frown was begging to form on my face. 

Why was I reacting like I was surprised that Scott thought I hated Derek? I do don't I? Yes. I tell myself. I do hate him. There's nothing else I can feel for him. There can't be.

There isn't much said after that. We depart, making sure no one saw us walking together. I head towards the cafeteria. My back again clenched up. This time I knew the reason why. I had no been to cafeteria in years. Not since what happened. I had spent my lunches in the art room. A place I was missing now. I had art after lunch, but it wasn't the same.

I had only just walked in through the doors, my food in hand. Since I always had my lunch in the art room, while Jocelyn had hers, I always packed my own. Today all I had was a bag of chips I brought from the vending machine. When my name was called out. I knew the voice. And so did everyone else. Because they all turned their heads in my direction. Watching my every move. 

Derek sat at the same table he had for three years. With the same people who were now his friends: Jordan, Lydia, Jackson, Allison, and numerous other people. People the school looked up to. 

I felt them all. Every single eyes on me as I made my way over to Derek's table. To make my plan happen I had wanted to keep eye contact with him while being in the cafeteria. But memories of being back in here kept flooding into me. Causing me to avoid any and all eye contact. 

"Where have you been?" Derek asked me before I had even sat down next to him. He had wasted no time in making it so we were close; he grabbed ahold of my chair and pulled it in close to his when I was seated. 

"I need to goto the bathroom." I say as casual as I can. I bring out my packed lunch - the bag of chips. His eye narrow at me when I look up at him to see if he had brought the story. 

He doesn't say anything. His eyes only narrow, and stares at me for a few more moments, before he swings his around me. I flinch on instinct - especially being in here. Expecting the worst; he had somehow knew I was lying. But all I got was an arm wrapped around the back of my chair. I can still feel eyes on me. The ones at this table more so. Allison and Lydia were both staring at me heavy. I could feel it. But I wouldn't meet the stare. I kept my eyes down, and started to eat my chips as Derek started to talk to the other guys at the table. 

This was an entirely different experience since my last time in the cafeteria. 

It had been three years ago, not long after Derek had suddenly turned against me. No one was speaking to me, not even the ones I thought were my friends. I had spent every lunch in the cafeteria alone. Usually having to listen while Derek called out things to me. 

That day had been different from the rest. The crushing pain of having Derek suddenly hate me happen't been added on today; Derek had ignored me in the hallways earlier. Which honestly hurt too. How bad was that? That I'd rather have him torment me rather than ignore me . . . 

Stupid naïve me thought that he had finally stopped. This was the first time he had not called out something to me in the hallway or shoved me against the lockers. A smile. An honest to God smile had been on my face walking into the cafeteria that day. 

The smile was there when I had walked in, when I had gone up to get my food, and was there when I was walking over to an empty table; when Derek had looked over at me walking. When I had looked over to him, with that smile. 

The look on his face. For back then. It was new. It was something I had never seen on him before. It was dark. It was like what they say: if looks could kill . . . well, that look... he looked like he wanted to actually hurt me. 

I had looked away from him, and focused my vision on the lunch tray in my hands. I wish I could go back and tell myself that that had been a bad idea. Because looking down at my tray, I didn't see his foot that had stuck out. I tripped. The lunch tray that was in hands went over too; the contents went flying . . . all over Jackson. 

"What the fuck?" He had called out. His eyes blazing with anger.

I had hopped back up, ready to explain myself and apologise. Snickers and laughs had already began to start. It was at that point that Derek had stood up from his table and look at me. 

"Who the fuck do you think you are, Stilinski?" He voice was deep, as he causally walked over to me. A smirk was plastered on his face. "You think you have the right to mess with my actual friends?" He had said, putting emphasis on the word 'actual'. "It's about fucking time some taught you a lesson." He had reached back behind himself to grab something from the table.

I don't know why. But I didn't escape. I should have. Because before I knew it, I felt something cold running down my face. Derek had reached around and had grabbed a bottle of Cola and had poured it onto me. I tried to back away from it, but as I tried, he had grabbed ahold of the back of my neck and held me there. It was all I could do but try and stop the bottle, which I had failed in doing. I stood there, telling him top stop and whimpering, as laughs filled the cafeteria. Jackson's being the loudest of them all. 

It wasn't until the pouring stopped when I felt my world go off balance. Derek had shoved me backwards, causing me to fall back onto my ass. More laughs erupted from the room. My eyes had then begun to water as I looked up to Derek. Who wore, just like I had when I came into the cafeteria, a smile. 

After that day laughs had followed me for weeks. Derek's tormenting returned to hallways, apart from birthdays. And I had not returned to the cafeteria since then. Not until today. 

That memory. Derek doing that. Humiliating me in front f everyone. My face and hair had been sticky until the school day was over. Fused with everything else. It was enough. I'm going to make him pay. He hurt me in so many ways. But now it's my turn. It's my turn to hurt him.

He needs to think I want him. 

Making sure that all eyes have lost interest in me first, I move my left hand that had been with my other on the table, and drop it onto Derek's jean clad thigh. 

His reaction is instantaneous. He looks down over to me as my hand moves upwards. His green eyes darkening as he looks down at me with the same look he gave me last night. "Derek!" Jordan called out to him, trying to get his attention from across of him to the left. Derek keeps his now full darkened eyes on me for a few moments before turning back to Jordan and continuing the conversation. I pay no attention to their conversation as I focus on eating my chips, and moving my hands farther up his tight. Until I reach his crotch. He was hard. I had only started doing this less than a minute ago and he was already this hard? This was the effect I had on him? . . . it's probably like this with everyone. I tell myself. Mentally shaking my head. Thinking wasn't what I was supposed to be doing. I cold myself, before gripping tight on his now hard cock through his jeans. 

And just like that, Derek went on with his conversation as I discreetly stroked his cock. Doing this to him it would show him that I am what he things I am to him: his. But . . . I would be lying to myself if I said I wasn't enjoying this. He was letting me do this to him. The power I held at this moment. It felt good. 

If you had been looking for it you would've seen it. Just as the bell rang to signal the end of lunch, his body jerked upward. I felt the warmth through his jeans. A smile spread across my face. That didn't go unnoticed by Lydia. She frowns as we all stand up. I watch as Derek does his best to pull his black tee down over his crotch. I don't wait for him as I start to follow everyone else towards the doors. 

Just as I make it to the doors leading in his arm wraps around me; already knowing it's Derek. Usually something like this would draw in attention from people walking by, but as Derek held me tight, no one looked twice. They just moved on. I could feel the warmth of his breath on the back of my neck. "You're playing a dangerous game, baby." I growls.

My body reacts to his name for me; chills ran along my skin. "Am I?" I ask. 

"Hmm," he moans into my hair. His hands tighten around me. Though I'm one to talk, this is risky doing this. A teacher will come by the cafeteria soon. "You're coming tonight."

"Jordan is taking Lydia to the movies. I want to see the movie. You're coming with me."

"A date? . . ." I question. Unsure of what answer I want to hear. If he's asking me on a date... it doesn't change anything. No. This is to take him down; for payback. 

"Don't push it Stiles." He runs his lips across the shell of my ear. A shutter escapes from my mouth. He moves away from me, turns to face me and walks backwards. A grin on his face. "You should get to class. You don't want to be late." 

 

 

I push the pages apart. Panic rising inside of me.

They're gone. All of them are gone.

I had walked into art and had gone straight for the works. The drawings of me and Derek's childhood. When he was the most important thing in the world to me. Only to find that they were gone. They weren't just drawings. Not to me. They were the connection to my best friend that I love. I can't just draw them again. 

Why? Why would someone take them. They're pointless to anyone else. Other than to mock and tease me. But that wouldn't end well for them; Derek wouldn't like it, right? So who . . . 

No one had known about the drawings apart from Jocelyn. And she would never do this. I sat by myself every lesson. No one has seen me drawing them. Well apart from . . . 

The panic I was feeling soon turned to anger. How could I even have questioned this. This has Derek written all over it. 

I thought I had hidden it well when he had came into the art room during lunch. I guess I hadn't . . . he saw it. He saw the drawing and took it. He took them all. But why? I don't . . . I just don't. 

Stop, Stiles. No fucking more. Use this. I tell myself. 

Use this as fuel for the payback. Save the anger. Bury the sadness. For when my payback comes, It will all feel better. Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have enough words to thank you all for the support you have shown for this story. Writing has always been an interest of mine, but I never thought I would be good at it. If my style of writing was good. But from the comments I've seen it's apparently good. Which surprised me a lot. So I hope I can keep up this good writing style for you guys, and keep this story interesting for you. Again, thank you all so much! You are all so awesome! :'D
> 
> Next chapter: will be the movies and the "date" and then there'll be a time jump - a few weeks or a month :) also if there's any spelling mistakes, I'm sorry. I didn't have time to check it. Hope you all enjoy :)


	11. Chapter ELEVEN

\- STILES POV - 

 

 

Instant pain flooded through me as my head was slammed into the cold tiled wall of the bathroom. 

I look down. Watching as a tear falls down from my eye. Falling past the silver pendant that hung from my neck. Bloodied hands wrap around my body. They hold me firm as I feel him enter me with one full forced shove. My screams of pain are muffled as his large hand comes up to my mouth, covering it. 

The metallic smell of fresh blood from his hands fills my nose. 

"You're mine, not his." He grows into my ear. "Do you fucking hear me? You. Are. Mine!" His thrusts into me gaining more speed, and pain.

 

 

~ EAILER THAT NIGHT ~

 

 

The smell of leather hits my nose as I pull the leather jacket around my shoulders. I frown at myself in the mirror. I had thrown on a long sleeved grey Henley; a pair of worn jeans; and now the leather jacket - leaving it unzipped. The frown I wore was not directed at the clothes I had chosen to wear. But at the fact that I wanted to look good. For the plan. I tell myself. It's for the plan; to make Derek think I want him . . . for the plan.

Derek had, like everyday now, driven me home from school. When he had pulled up into his drive way he had grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me into a lingering kiss, with the instructions to be ready in under two hours. He had pulled out of the driveway when I had gotten out, and sped off down the road; towards town. 

A date. Derek hadn't called it a date. But it was one, right? We were going to the movies with Jordan and Lydia. This was good. I could use this for my plan to hurt Derek. Once I've hurt him I know what will happen after. He will try and hurt me, like he had done in the past. But it would be worse. He had threatened my Dad. So when my plan is done, I'll then tell the police. Everything. I will tell them everything; bullying, threatening, forcing himself onto me. Derek will finally pay for everything. I know I could do it now. There's . . . nothing . . . stopping me. But I want my payback.

Dad, like always, had been at work when I came home. A note on the kitchen counter saying he was working the late shift and won't be home until late. I know he has to work; it's been like this for years. But it still hurt being lonely. Both at school and at home. But I guess it's changed now at school. I have Scott. He's my friend - well I want him to be. I mean, I have to sneak around to talk to him. Which is fucking ridiculous. Lydia and Allison have begun to speak to me again. They would smile at me during class and while walking down the hallway. Three years ago I was getting real close to them. But like everyone else, they shut me out when Derek commanded it. Now, when it was safe, they were talking to me again. I didn't know how to feel about it. But with Scott. It was different. He seemed to actually want to be my friend; offering to help me with Derek after only knowing me for a short time . . . 

A loud intake of breath makes me turn away from the mirror in a sharp turn. 

Derek stands there in front of my now open window. He must have climbed across the tree, and into my room. He stands there dressed in a pair of dark jeans, and a tight black tee that clung to his body like a second skin. His hands were at his side, as his eyes bore into me. I don't have enough time to move away before he takes a large step forward and takes ahold of my shoulders, and backs me up until were both up against the wall. "What are you?" He all but growls in a deep voice. 

"W-what?" I ask, frowning. 

"You . . ." he takes a step closer to me; our noses an inch apart. "You're too fucking perfect to be human!" He lowers he forehead down until it rests on mine. His dark eyes stare down into mine. His warm breath hits my face as I stare up at him. This is what I wanted; it's going all to plan. I should feel silent triumph for succeeding in this. So why wasn't I feeling that instead of feeling like the breath was taken away from me? Why was there an uncontrollable smile pulling at my mouth? Why were my hands raised up and placed on his arms? At the skin to skin touch of my hand on his biceps, Derek's breaths out a shaky breath and backs up away from me. "I have something for you," he shoves his hand into his jeans pocket and pulls out a silver chain. 

He shoves his hand out, and holds it in front of him. For the first time since coming into my room his eyes avoided mine. He's . . . nervous... I reach out and take the silver chain from his hand, the smile on my face stretches farther apart. For some reason . . . 

I take a look at the chain Derek had just given me. The thin chain is silver and long with a circular pendant hanging off from the chain. I take ahold of the pendant to take a better look. A feeling I have not felt in a very long time hit me, and it hit me hard. The chain in long enough for me to easily pull it over my head. The pendant falls just past my chest. The words from the engraving on pendant, DEREK & STILES FORVER, faced away from me. 

It was such a small thing, but it did a lot. For the first time in three years it was like he was back. The Derek that stared at me now had no darkness in his eyes. There was only the green I had loved to look at when we were kids. I had put everything I left buried inside into the plan. My loneliness, my sadness, my hurt, everything, I had put it all into the plan. So that when the plan succeeded, it would all be over. Everything I had felt over the past three years, even before, would die. But now . . . again. I have no fucking idea what to feel or do. So for the first time in a long time, I just don't. I look up at Derek and smile at him. Derek, himself, wears a smile on his face. An actual genuine smile, for the first time in along time . . . 

He hurt you. I tell myself in my head. And yet, it doesn't stop this feeling from returning. A feeling that feels like . . . home.

 

 

\- - - - - 

 

 

The entire time until we were seated in the movies I had kept the pendent in my hands; moving it around my fingers. 

We had met Jordan and Lydia at the theatres. A series of surprises was met when we had arrived. The first being Jordan, who had smiled and greeted me. The second was Lydia smiling bright at me before hugging me. Which would've been the biggest surprise if Derek hadn't put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me in tight. He had place light kisses on me numerous times while we were getting our tickets, popcorn, and drinks. The smile . . . the smile that hadn't removed itself from my face since he had given me the pendant was there. Growing wide whenever Derek would kiss my lightly on my forehead or just underneath my ear. 

I'm not ignorant to the past. I can't forgive or forget the three years and everything since. But this feeling . . . I - I just . . . I need this. I need this feeling again. It was everything I have missed.

Derek had refused my offer of paying for my own ticket and food and brought for the both of us. We had decided on seeing The Dinosaur Knights. The movie had knights riding dinosaurs, battling each other. It was everything anyone could want. Well everyone but Lydia. Who had wanted to see the romantic-comedy. But with three to one in votes, she had lost with a pout. We had walked into the theatre, all the way up to the back row. Derek had made it so I was the first one to walk to my seat, Derek behind me, Jordan and Lydia behind him. 

Sometime during the trailers before the movie, Derek had swung his arm around my shoulders and pulled me in as close as I could. Just as the movie had started to begin; a man clad in full steel armour riding a Tyrannosaurus Rex came on screen, Derek had started to plant kisses along the side of my jaw; hugging his arm around me tight. 

The movie was long; over two hours. Over two hours of Derek holding me tight. With every few minutes or so his lips would meet the side of my face, or my lips. With the epicness of knights on top of dinosaurs battling other knights and this Derek, combined with this feeling . . . this was the first time in a very long time a smile has lasted this long on my face. 

"That movie would've been better with a romance it." Lydia said while we walked out of the theatre. Still unhappy that she didn't get to see the romantic-comedy. 

"It did, bade. Between the Dino Knight and the half human-half dino Princess. That's the best kind of romance if you ask me." Jordan lets out a long sigh. "If only Princess Maelia was real-" Lydia slapped his chest; Jordan chuckled at her reaction. 

The smile grows watching them. "I need to goto the bathroom," I say up at Derek, who was next to me. His arm still wrapped over my shoulders. I had needed to goto the bathroom for almost an hour now. But I doubt he would have removed his arm from me if I had wanted to get up . . . and if I'm being honest, I didn't want him to remove his arm. 

He frowns, for the first time tonight. "Alright. Be quick though," he lowers his head down to my ear, "I want to get you home and bend you over the bed." His breath is warm against my skin; he releases me from his hold and catches up with Jordan and Lydia. 

Happy . . . that's what this feeling is. Along side the feeling of home, I'm happy. It was as if my Derek was back. As if my Derek had finally killed the one that took his place three years ago, and retook his place. All because of the plan . . . 

My smile falters then, walking into the bathroom. 

This, tonight, was everything I have ever wanted. To be with Derek without anyone caring; just to the two of us . . . well also with Jordan and Lydia. But there's also all that he has done. What do I do? Really . . . what am I supposed to do . . . to feel? If I have a chance with Derek. My Derek, even after everything, shouldn't I -

"Stiles."

A familiar voice calls my name. I had been standing in the bathroom. Not moving, only thinking. I turn around to the door that was now just closing. Scott stood there. His hands inside the pockets of his grey hoodie. "Scott . . . what are you doing here?" I ask as he starts to walk over to me.

He remains quiet as he walks over, stopping right in front of me. His dark brown eyes focused on my chest. I follow his gaze down and see that he's staring at the pendant that Derek had given me earlier. 

"I was here watching a movie and I saw you come out with him and its friends," his eyes rise up from the pendant to look to my eyes, "I wanted to speak to you, so I followed you in here."

"Oh, uhm..." Scott stood close to me, closest he's ever been to me; the smell of his cologne filled my nose. "What'd you want to talk about?" 

Scott reaches his hand and grabs ahold of my pendant. He raises it up, I feel the scraping movement of the chain on the back of my neck, so he can read the engraving. "How's our plan going?" 

Our plan? "I thought you were against it . . ."

"I thought about it, and I think it could work." He pushes away at the pendant; the metal coming down and hitting me in the chest. "You play him, and then you destroy him."

Only just hours earlier I had been the one confronting him about this. This what I had wanted to hear. That Scott, someone I wanted to be my friend, would help me get back at someone who had taken everything from me. But now... now with everything tonight; my Derek, the Derek I had fallen for, might be back. I - I don't know. I just don't fucking know. I'm about to tell Scott that, when he must've guessed it.

"No fucking way." He says, in a deep voice. A voice that was new to me. "You're seriously going to give into him. Stiles! C'mon! I may not have been here for it all, but I've heard what he's done. You need to destroy him, so you can be free. So you can free to move on . . . move on with other people."

Move on with other people? I frown at the words. "Other . . ." Just the thought of that brought on another feeling I couldn't name. The second time today. This day has already been confusing enough, and Scott wasn't helping. I unintentionally start to shake my head before responding to him. "Look, Scott . . . I don't - mmph" 

Scott's lips are suddenly on mine, as is his hands as he grabs ahold of my biceps and pulls me into him. 

The kiss isn't long. Seconds really, but it felt longer . . . it felt - "Yes," Scott breathes when his lips hover over mine, "other people." He breathes, before slamming back down onto my lips before I could react; my eyes wide open. It feels . . . It feels wrong. His lips. His hands. His smell. Everything isn't right. He's not . . . he's not right. 

I take control of myself and place my hands on his chest, and start to push against him. 

Scott's lips leave mine, as does his hands and the warmth of his body. I take in a deep breath. Readying myself to ask him what the fuck he's doing when I hear it. Another voice yelling, and then the sound of flesh on flesh. 

I look over and see Derek, just as his fist slams into Scotts jaw. Blood from his nose and mouth start to fall. Scott tries to fight back, but Derek is quick to block his attempts, and punches him low in the stomach. Derek then grabs the hoodie just bellow his neck and hurls him up and slams him against the wall; blood now running down to balled fists. Seeing Scott, blood running from both his nose and mouth, an already dark bruises forming on his check, Derek's going to kill him. 

Derek's right fist leaves where he had balled it up in the hoodie and raises, about to punch Scott again. "Derek. Stop. Stop it!" I shout at him.

To my amazement he does. His fists pauses in mid air, and his head turns to look at me. Both of them do. But it's Derek I notice. His eyes. The ones that I had seen for the past three years were back. No longer the ones I loved from earlier. The look doesn't last long, but I felt it from him. The same feeling I felt from him everyday for the past three years: hate. 

"You will never fucking come near him again." Derek growls, turning his eyes away from me back to Scott; pulling Scott back from the wall only to shove him back into it. "You touched him. You put your fucking lips on what's mine. If I didn't need to reclaim what's mine, I wouldn't be fucking stoping. Believe me. Now pull your fucking hood up, and leave." He pulls Scott away from the wall and throws him in the direction of the door. 

Scott stumbles as Derek throws him. He manages not to fall and stops where he lands. He reaches behind his head and pulls the hood over the top of him, so it would shield most of his face if he were to look down. His tear filled eyes rise up and meet mine for a few seconds before Derek speaks again: "Out!" Scott leaves then with his head held low.

The night was good. It was better than good. It was like back three years ago; being close to Derek, sharing his life. How fast that momentary happiness is sucked away. To be filled by this darkness of hate. I feel it as he Derek's eyes bore into me. "I didn't - I didn't . . ." The stuttering words barely leave my mouth before Derek's on me. His hand wrapped around my throat and shoving me against the wall. My hands grab ahold of the arm holding my throat, trying to pushing it away.

"Don't you fucking dare, Stilinski. You wanted this. I know you fucking did. You played me with your fake smiles today. I have to say I'm impressed. You actually had me believing it." I try to tell him they weren't. That they were real smiles. But as I try and speak, his hold on my throat tightens. "After all this . . . after everything. You still fail to see that you're mine. That you fucking belong to me. Every single fucking inch of you is mine!" Derek shouts into my face, before moving his wrapped hand around my throat to the back of my neck; dragging me with him into the farthest toilet stall from the door.

I stumble into the stall, grabbing ahold of the back of the toilet for balance. The sound of Derek turning the lock echoes through the stall; Derek's back on me before I can turn around. He turns my body with his so that I'm shoved up against the cold tiled wall. Both of his hands grab mine and hold them at my side as he starts grinding himself against me. "D-Derek -" I try again to tell him it wasn't fake. That it was real. That I didn't kiss Scott, he kissed me. When I am pulled away from the tiled wall and slammed back into it. Hard. Instant pain floods through me.

"You do not say my name, not ever again. He screams behind me, grabbing ahold of the waistline of both my jeans and boxers and pulling them down in a hard pull. 

I am shoved back and forward again into the wall. My head slamming against the wall. Pain floods through me. I can't help them as they fall, tears fall from my eyes. But not from the pain from this moment. This . . . it's just like that night he forced himself on me; the first time. A full circle. Tonight it had been as if Derek - my Derek was back. And now, the monster that killed my Derek was back. Doing what he does best. Hurting me. I watch through tear filled eyes as Derek's hands, covered in Scott's blood wrap around my body. The hold me tight as he enters me in a full forced shove. A scream escapes from my throat, though quickly muffled by his large hand. The strong sent of metallic fills my nose. 

"You're mine, not his!" His voice growls into my ear. "Do you fucking hear me? You. Are. Mine!" He growls out each word with a hard thrust into me; the thrusts growing faster and more painful. 

I don't fight. What's the point anymore . . . I let my arms hang there at my side. The pain is there, I can feel it. The pain of everything erupting at once. Loosing Derek over a kiss. Derek tormenting me for three years. Derek forcing himself onto me, again, and again. My Derek coming back only to loose him again over a kiss. I only watch as the pendant swings with my body; my tears fall past it. The light from the fluorescent lights above shine onto it, illuminating the engraving; DEREK & STILES FOREVER.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for any scenes in this chapter, past, or in the future that's set in school or out in public that seem a bit unusual. American schools are vastly different to Australian schools. So I hope I'm capturing it right; we don't even have cafeterias here - well the schools I've gone to didn't. And I'm sure the movie theatres are different too. So I hope everything is alright! Hahaha :L
> 
> Note: this isn't the last we'll see of Scott. He'll be back, maybe with reinforcements of some kind ;)


	12. Chapter TWELVE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're coming to the end . . . of part 1. I'm thinking 3 - 4 - maybe 5 more chapters ;) Part 1 will will tie up everything dealing with Peter, possibly Scott, and Derek and Stiles. A death is still coming - remember I'm not one for happy endings >:D and then Part 2 that will involve a time jump ;D
> 
> I don't want to go into too much detail of my personal life but I have problems with my moods and I'm on a medication trial for week or two, and right now my head's not in the right place. So that's the reason why there's been a lack of updates, and if anything doesn't make sense or if the words are misspelt, I am very very sorry and I'll fix it when everything's better :) - God I hope it all makes sense! Hahaha. But I'll try and update as much as I can :)

\- DEREK POV - 

 

 

"I don't want him in this fucking house! It's been over a month. I want him gone." I say as I stand in the walkway into the kitchen.

"Do not speak to me like that, Derek." Mom's voice crowed from behind the kitchen island. "Anyway, he's your uncle. He's family, Derek. You should spend sometime with Peter. I know he would like it."

Spend sometime with him? Yeah, I'd rather fucking not. I've never cared much for my uncle. Not that I cared much for any of my family anyway. But the way he eyed Stiles a month ago when he randomly showed up . . . I wanted him fucking gone. 

I had seen the way his blue eyes had darkened upon looking at Stiles - my fucking Stiles. I had dragged Stiles out of the house as fast as I could; casting the biggest fuck off look at my uncle over my shoulder. 

My uncle didn't know what he was dealing with. I've stopped everyone from trying to take away what's mine. From anyone at school who had tried to speak to him. To that fucker who had kissed him a month ago. Instant rage rushed through me from just thinking about it; adding onto the already anger I was feeling right now.

I had punched the fucker in the face with full force numerous times that night. But that wasn't enough. I had wanted to feel his bones break in my hands. To take pleasure in watching his skin tear apart. I still want that. But there's one thing I can give him. He has a brain. He's stayed the fuck away from Stiles since that night. Stiles . . . 

Stiles surprised me that night. He actually made me believe he was accepting the fact that he was mine. The rubdown in the cafeteria, his reaction to the fucking pendant I gave him, and just the way he was during the night. It - it brought back a feeling I haven't felt in a very long time. 

But it was another game. Another fucking game like the first time. So it means everything he had said to me was a lie. The way he felt for me. A lie. His excuses. A lie. It had all been another one of his fucking mind games. He thought he could get away with it; believe that he's not mine. I made sure to remove that train of thought from him fast. I took what was mine that night in the bathroom, and every night since. He was mine. And if I have to fuck him every night for the rest of our lives - in private, or in front of everyone for him to realise he's mine, then so be it. Though I had noticed he didn't fight it anymore. Whenever I would enter his perfect tightness, even the lead up to it, there was no resistance. And yet he still - 

"I like having Uncle Peter here." Cora's unwanted voice spoke up from where she was seated at the table. Breaking me away from my thoughts. 

"No one fucking asked you . . . shouldn't you be out somewhere spreading your legs." 

"Derek! That's enough." The crowing voice of my Mom raised, as she walked around the island, coming in closer towards me. "You need to show more resp-"

"I don't want him here!" I interrupt her before she could go into the topic of me showing more 'respect' for others. The amount of times she brings that bullshit up. You'd think she'd realise I don't give a fuck what she says. 

"Derek for once could you stop acting like a brat. He's your Uncle; your family. He's staying here for a little while. End of story." She turns her back on me, and walks back over towards the island. 

I glare at the back of her head, clenching my fists into tight balls. I let out a deep exhale, and I turn. Glaring at Cora as I walk away and back up to my bedroom. This is it. It's my last year in this fucking house with these people. School finishes this year and then I'm taking Stiles and getting the fuck out of Beacon Hills. 

I needed a release on this anger. Stiles, of course, was home. I had seen him moving around in his room before I had gone downstairs. Releasing this anger that was partly his fault on him by pounding him into the mattress would work perfectly. And it would satisfy the craving I have for him. But it had been sometime since I had worked out. I pull the dumbbells out from under my bed, and sit so I'm facing Stiles's room and start to lift them. The craving will be filled later. 

An hour later I wipe the sweat from my brow; I stand up from where I had been doing push-ups. I walk over to my draws, grabbing my spray and mask the stench of sweat. I look up into my reflection noticing the days old stubble along my jaw. Stubble was not normally something I liked having. But I had decided to grow it out since last weekend. I had just finished fucking my Stiles on my bed, my arm was wrapped around him holding his body to mine, when he had brought his hand up and ran it along the stubble I had not shaven off that morning. And it felt fucking amazing. So if having stubble meant having Stiles run his hand down my jaw then you better believe that I'll never shave my stubble off. 

I check myself in the mirror; black wife beater, black basketball short, and climb out through the window and make my way to Stiles's open window. The window I made sure Stiles never closed and locked. 

I see him sitting at his desk still in his pyjama pants, watching some cartoon with subtitles, with the pendant I had given him wrapped around his hand; held up to his mouth. It was a habit of his I had picked up on weeks ago. Watching the silver circle with our names engraved into it, it set my craving for him alight. Seeing him there . . . my bodies reaction is instantaneous. Though I had only just seen him a few hours earlier this morning when I left his bed to come home, my cock hardened to full mast. 

As I drop down through the windowsill, I alert him to my presence. His surprised face turns to face mine for a second before he turns back around to the subtitled cartoon, pauses it, and turns back to face me.

"Hey," his voice is soft spoken. "I was about to message you. Lydia texted me a few minutes ago. She said to meet her and Jordan at Beacon Mall in an hour. -" The words that fall from his lips don't register with me. All I see is him; his perfect lips moving with his words. My hands grab ahold of the waistband of my basketball shorts. His eyes drop down to follow the movement. A day after when that fucker had kissed my Stiles I had made Stiles wrap those perfect lips around my cock and suck me until completion. I reach in my shorts and pull out my hardened cock. I step in closer towards Stiles, until the head of my cock is inches away from his mouth. 

The anger is still there. I won't fall prey to another one of his fucking mind games again. Twice was pathetic enough. But like last time, when he had been my whole world, a feeling there; a feeling I did not feel for anyone but him. He had awoken that feeling in me again for the first time in three years. Only to have his mouth on an other person . . . again. But unlike last time I hadn't made him mine. Now I have. And even if the world tries to take him away from me, I'll destroy the world itself. He was it for me. He was mine. And nothing will say otherwise. Not my Mom. Not his Dad. Not anyone from our school. Not even Stiles himself. He was mine!

 

 

\- STILES POV -

 

 

How is it that I feel this way? I reminded myself every time I felt this; knowing what it meant. Every time like a broken record. He's not good, I would shout to myself. He's bad. He's not your Derek. He's the monster that tormented you; outcasted you; and forced you to be with him. Over and over I would tell myself, and yet, it's still there. It's always been there. 

I wanted to fight. God knows I wanted to fight this. To get back at Derek for the pain he had caused me for the past three years. I told myself I had given up on the payback the night when Scott had kissed me and aftermath from everything. But I knew why I had stopped. And it didn't help the mixed opposite feelings I was having; I lost him once, and I don't think I could handle it a second time.

After Derek and I had finished in my room - finished with something I was not new to anymore, not since the day after the night in the bathroom - I had changed into my jeans, and pulled on a blue plaid shirt. Lydia and Jordan had waited for us at the entrance of the Mall. Upon entering Jordan had stayed near to Derek from behind, while Lydia and I walked ahead of them. 

"So, did you hear about the storm warning?" Lydia asked from the right of me, turning to face me while we walk. For the past month both Lydia and Allison had started to speak to me more and more. They would include me in on their conversations, and message me throughout the day. I won't lie, it was nice. I wasn't ignorant to the fact that they were only speaking to me because now Derek allowed it. But being with them, and speaking with them. It was a lot like old times . . .

I shake my head. "Oh. Apparently it's huge!" Lydia says as we walk into a store I don't catch the name of; Derek and Jordan following us in. "They're already saying it's going to be one of the biggest storms ever to hit Beacon Hills. You seriously haven't heard about it yet?"

I shake my head again, "When is it supposed to come in?" 

"The weatherman this morning said in a few days." We stop walking; Jordan coming up to Lydia, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. The hairs on the back of my neck stand as I feel Derek come in close behind me. "They showed footage of the storm in Killfeather. The rain was that heavy you couldn't even see through it! It looks crazy." 

"Don't worry, babe. I'll be there to protect you." Jordan says from behind her, lowering his face into the nape of her neck. 

Lydia's eyes squinted and her mouth opened to say something back to Jordan, but I never heard it. Derek's hands were suddenly on my waist and I was being turned around and walked in the other direction. I look up at him with a slight frown but his eyes are focused ahead of us. He walks us towards the backend of the store, which I now see that it's Target. Where he leads us was towards the toys and sports section. His hands leave my waist to fall down to his sides, but he keeps up the close distance behind me. 

This was only the second time being out in public with Derek since we were kids. Though being different from a month ago; him being more closed off like he was before. He's been like that since the bathroom that night. 

I haven't spoken to Scott since that night. I hardly even see him at school anymore. The only time I had was a week after the bathroom. We were walking down the hallway the same time he had been. His face all different shades of purple and red. But that had been the only look I got; Derek had pulled me in close when Scott got near. I didn't dare try and confront Scott. I wanted to. I wanted to ask him why he'd kissed me, and I wanted to apologise to him for what Derek did. 

We had just rounded the corner when three girls emerged from one of the aisles. They had to be not that much older than us, probably in their early twenties. Their eyes instantly locked onto Derek. I watch them without having them notice me; they're not paying me any attention anyway. They're gorgeous. Two of them having long dark hair, while the third had shoulder length blonde hair. The type of girls guys would kill each other to get to first. I see the look in their eyes. They're dark looking at him. They want him, like everybody else. I was hit with a pang of feelings. Irritation and . . . jealousy leading in the race. I follow them with my eyes as they pass us. They come close to him as they pass, slowly walking past; one brushing her shoulder against his. I feel my frown deepen. It's then I look up to see Derek's reaction to them. Expecting him to be looking at them like I had. But what I met with was his eyes facing me. Not even giving the gorgeous girls a look as they pass. 

I can't help it. The smile tugs at the corner of my mouth, and keeps on tugging until the smile tugs at both corners. And for the first time in a long time I'm smiling up at Derek. I'm shouting at myself again. Shouting the same things I've been shouting at myself for the past few weeks. But as I look up at him. At the face that I . . . that I - I used? to love. Derek doesn't smile back. He only stares down at me with a frown; his eyes holding a look. A look that that -

My ringtone tone, which I had made it to be Guren no Yumiya, sang from my pocket at full volume. I reach and pull out my phone, seeing that it's my Dad calling me. I take in a deep breath before answering.

"Hey, Dad. Are you alright?" I ask. He's working right now. So whenever I would get a call from his phone while he's working, I expect the worst to happen. But, thankfully, that call has never happened.

"Yes, Stiles. I'm good," I release the deep breath I had taken in, "I just wanted to know what you wanted to eat tonight."

"Oh, uh . . . pizza's cool." 

"Alright. I'll stop by Pedro's on my way home. Cya tonight." 

Pulling the phone away from my ear, ending the call, I notice the date for the first time today. Two days until the eleventh . . . two days until Derek's birthday. I look up at him, "It's your birthday in two days."

 

 

\- DEREK POV - 

 

 

"Yes. I know." I answer him.

Today Stiles had been what I've always wanted from him. From the blow job this morning, to the jealousy he felt when the girls had past, to the smile he had just given me before his call. The anger was there. After all that he's done; the games he's played, it will always linger. The anger . . . I can't let it go. Not when this could be another one of his games. Another way for him to deny the truth that he is mine. 

I watch as his head turns to the side, the corner of his mouth tugs up into a small grin. He starts to walk off towards the aisles filled with toys. I start to follow him when his hands rise up to my chest, halting me.

My brows rise up. I'm ready to ask him what the fuck he thinks he's doing to stop me from following, when he beats me to it. 

"I'll be back in a minute. Stay here." 

"No." I answer him. 

He lets out a sigh, that small grin that I can't remove my eyes from was still there holding strong. "I'll only be gone for a minute. I promise. I need to go look for something, and you can't see it yet . . . trust me." It's then that my eyes leave the small grin, and rise up to look into his eyes. To see the lies, the game, that hides beneath them. But all I find is him. The warm brown eyes of my Stiles.

He takes a step back, his hands leaving my chest as he turns and walks down the aisle. It takes everything inside of me to not follow him. I watch him as he walks down the aisle, looking left and right at the shelves. My eyes watch every movement he does until he turns the corner and out of sight. My fists curl up and clench into tight balls. 

I had already let him go once and that fucker had found him and put his fucking lips on what's mine. Anything could happen. The fucker, if he was stupid enough, could come back. Someone else could try and take him away. Or Stiles himself could try and run. He could try. But I would find him. Even if I had to search the entire fucking world to drag him back. I would. He's mine. And nothing would ever change that. 

Trust me. He had asked. 

I do. He has no idea the power he holds. If only he - 

I am pulled from my thoughts when I see him walk back around the corner, coming back down the aisle. His hands behind his back. My balled fists unclench and lay flat against the side of my thigh. I watch his every footstep, coming back closer and closer, until he stands where he was a minute or so ago. I keep my face neutral; about to tell him to remove his hands from behind his back when for the second time today, he beats me to it. 

"Do you remember years ago before . . ." he pauses fro a second, "we used to play PlayStation in your room nearly everyday?"

I nod my head, remembering the days when he would sit at the end of my bed on red and blue bean bags playing games on my PlayStation for hours. 

"Well I do remember that out of all the games we played, our favourite was Spyro; we loved playing as him." He brings around his right arm to show me what he has kept behind his back. A small plush toy of Spyro lays there. No bigger than the hand it's lays in. "I saw him and I just - I just remembered. It's lame I know, ah -"

Claiming Stiles as him being rightfully mine in front of others has never been a problem. During school I would regularly publicly claim him with my mouth whenever I'd see some fuck head staring at him for too long. But claiming him as mine was far from my mind as I lowered and took his lips with mine. He was mine. He been even before the night over a month when I had lost it and claimed him for the first time. He had always been mine. The jealously, the Spyro - a gift from our past . . . he's accepting. He is now truly mine.

 

 

\- - - - - 

 

 

"The strong storm system continues to march towards Beacon County. Reports of injuries, damaged property, fallen trees, hail, and power outages, all coming in from the counties: Killfeather, Oakland, and Chance." The dulling voice of the weather reporter drained on. Since returning from the Mall my Mom had been watching the weather warnings on repeat. Like watching the idiot's voice drain on and on about what's coming could change something. 

I had hoped to slip past her and back up the stairs without her hearing me. I didn't really want to hear her voice right now. Not since this morning when she wouldn't agree to make Peter get the fuck out of this house. 

But that hope ultimately died as I neared the foot of the steps. 

"Derek, sweetheart, would you please come here."

"What?" I ask from entry way from the foyer, not bothering to mask my annoyance. 

She turns around on the lounge so that she faces me. Her dark brown eyes looking everywhere but me "I - um," she quietly clears her throat. "I need to speak with you. It's about you turning eighteen. It's very important -"

"Sure, whatever." I start to turn on my left when her crowing voice spoke again. Making me turn back around to face her.

This time her eyes focused on mine. "Peter would like to speak with you too. Please, Derek, he would really like -"

I let out a groan and start turning on my right this time, intending to walk away from her crowing voice. I don't fucking care what Peter would like. My intentions come short when I notice a blue plaid shirt, Stiles; a larger figure moving towards him. Peter. 

I push forward towards the front door, ignoring my Moms voice telling me that she'd really appreciate me spending some time with Peter. Oh, I'm about to spend sometime with him . . . I'm going to be fucking killing him for even coming in close to my Stiles. 

I see them as I'm rushing down the steps leading up to the porch. He stands there in front of Stiles. My fucking Stiles. He's too fucking close. Stiles notices me first; I make there just as my fucking uncle was saying, "you can tell me, you know". 

Grabbing ahold of Stiles' bicep, I face my uncle. "Stiles go into your houses." My voice growls out, my uncles brows rise in response. 

"Wha-why? . . . Derek, it's o-"

"Stiles, get in your fucking house. And don't go anywhere until I come in!" This time I turn to face him, releasing my hold on him. He doesn't move. He stands there silently, a frown growing on his face. "Now, Stiles!" I all up roar at him. He flinches at the volume of my voice and takes a step back. His falls down as he walks his way up to his front door. I don't take my eyes off him I watch the front door shut behind him. "You stay the fuck away from him, alright? Don't you go near him. I want you gone. I want you fucking out this house." I turn back to face my uncle.

He chuckles. He fucking chuckles like I some kid making a dull threat. He had no fucking idea. His eyes are filled with, what, fucking amusement? My fists ball up and clench tight. The thought of him being near Stiles fills me. I'm about to make my threat a reality when he speaks. "I'm not going anywhere, dear nephew. I'm here to celebrate your eighteenth birthday." He chuckles again. I'm ready to tell him I don't fucking want him here. "You're just like him you know..."

"Who?" I growl out. My hands had begun to shake from how tight I was holding them. 

He takes a step forward, surprising me. Nobody has ever taken a step forward when I would threaten them. Always a step back. "My brother. Your father." My fists fall open as I watch him turn and walk back towards the house, a small chuckle again coming from him. My father. I knew nothing of him, other than he was a businessman. Mom didn't like to speak of her dead husband . . . whatever. I don't fucking care. Not about any of them. I head up towards Stiles' house. Intense anger still flowing through my body. What the fuck was he doing talking to Peter!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a very different chapter than the rest. A lot can happen in a month, but I promise you, nothing has changed. Part 1 is not heading towards a happy ending. Although Stiles may seem like he has forgotten everything, I assure you, he hasn't. Plus, this was a chapter to set things up. There's also an Easter Egg or two for part 2 in this chapter ;) - Also, I made up the counties of Northern California because I had no idea what they were really called ahaha.


	13. Chapter THIRTEEN

\- STILES POV - 

 

 

Today had been different. 

I had ignored the repeating voice in my head telling me that it was wrong. That he wasn't my Derek, that he was bad. I don't know why I did it but something inside of me drove me to find him a birthday present. Upon seeing the plush toy of Spyro the memories of our favourite game came flooding back. 

His reaction to the gift hasn't been what I had expected. I half expected Derek to question it and look as if I was ridiculous. A kiss, a normal kiss that wasn't like the times at school when he'd randomly take my mouth. Wasn't what I had expected. 

When he had pulled away from the kiss he had pulled out his phone, typed for a few seconds, before pocketing it once more. We had left without saying anything to Lydia or Jordan, who I assumed was the person he typed to. It had been different. He had driven us straight home, and had taken Spyro from me. I had come home to see Dad sitting at the dinning table, beer in hand, watching the weather report. Lydia had been right. The thing was huge, and reported to hit in two days time . . . the same day as Derek's birthday. I'm sure some irony could be found there.

The pizza wouldn't be here for another ten to twenty more minutes. We're made up of decisions. Whether they're bad or good, they're what drives our lives. Often a decision we take cannot be explained. That is the only explanation I can give to why I walked outside. 

"What the fuck did he say to you?" Derek all but yelled as he walked into my room. 

I quickly rush ahead and close the door behind him. "Keep it down," I say turning around the face him, "Dad's downstairs."

"Stiles. What. Did. He. Say?" Derek speaks each word with a step forward. Until we're toe to toe. His eyes were livid; filled with the same darkness I've come to know.

"H-he - all he said was who he was. And that he was happy that we're.. together . . . and ah, ah, he asked a question. That's all-" 

"What did he ask you?"

He always did this to me. When he was like this I would cower and stutter my words. I hated it. I hated how I couldn't be stronger. I wanted to be. I pushed myself to be. But in the end, he still did this to me. It was pathetic. I was pathetic when it came to him. "Uh," Derek's Uncle had asked if I was okay with my relationship with Derek, if he showed any signs of possessive behaviour; that I could tell him. "He asked if I was . . . okay with our relationship-"

Derek's fist slamming into the door, next to head, stopped me from finishing my sentence. Which I think was a good thing. 

My eyes follow his movements as he backs up away from me and starts to pace back and forth. His fists were balled and clenched tight at his side; they began to shake. "That asshole." His words barely recognisable through his growl. "That fucking asshole!" 

"Derek, it's fine-"

My words fall short again as his eyes turn to me. "It's fine? It's fucking fine? What . . . You're not okay with being rightfully mine. You're letting him take you from me. Is that it?" He steps forward until we're toe to toe once more.

"Derek, keep your voice down. Dad'll - ahh!" Derek's hand came forward and wrapped around my throat, pushing me until the back of my head came in contact with the door.

"He won't take you away Stiles. He won't. No one will!" His hand grips tighter. "Why do you keep doing this? You keep fighting it; making me think . . ." he shakes his head, "I guess I need to fucking remind you again that you're mine!" 

The free hand that was not wrapped around my throat grab onto the waistband of my jeans and boxers and pull down with a strong pull. His own being pulled down with mine.

Today had been different. Today had been a lie. 

Again, a full circle; what seemed like my Derek was back, only to have that thought - that dream pulled away by this nightmare. I don't know what else to do anymore. I've tried. I've tried to be strong, to fight back - the plan, I've tried to, no, I wanted my Derek back. But he's gone. I can't do this anymore; this constant circle. 

I don't close my eyes, nor do I look away. I keep my eye contact with Derek as his fingers enter me; trying to see through the darkness in his eyes. To see if he's there. But all I see is that darkness. He doesn't give it much time, seconds at most, until he pulls his fingers out and pushes his hardened cock into me. His free hand covering my mouth, muffling the screams I let out. 

The grip on my neck tightens right at the same time tears fall from my eyes. His thrusting becoming more faster with harder pushes. I can't do this anymore. I don't want this. He's not him. He'll never be my Derek. I just cant . . .

"Stiles?" Dad's voice come through the door, along with a knock on the wood. Derek's thrusting slowed but didn't stop; removing his hand. "The Pizza's here."

I don't respond back to Dad fast enough; Derek's grip tightened more before loosening up. The message well received. "I'll-" I choke out, coming out more of whimper than normal. "I'll be out there in a minute." I meet Derek's glare just as his eyes narrow at me. 

"Are you alright, son?"

"Yeah, Yeah. I'm good." I turn my head as much as I could in Derek's grip towards the door, managing this time to speak without it sounding like a whimper.

There was a pause. The only thing I could he was Derek's quiet breathing as he continued to move in and out of me, refusing to stop; groans barely being kept from escaping from my throat. "Alright then," Dad finally says. "Hurry up though. It'll get cold." The sound of his footsteps echoed through the hallway until he took the stairs. 

"Tell me, Stiles." Derek's voice bringing me back to him. "Say it. Say what you are," His thrusting returning back to its rough pushes. "Say to me that you're mine."

Best friends. They were meant to be an inseparable pair. Someone you could go to for help, for support, to be that one person who would always be there. No matter what. Derek was all that for me. Why now, of all times, did everything come to me. The R rated movie Derek and I watched when I slept over at his house; riding our bikes through the reserve; stealing one of my Dads beers and trying it together . . . it's all gone. What happened, how did I loose it all? Because of a kiss? It didn't make sense! He couldn't possibly have something wrong with his head. I was his best friend. I would've noticed it! He blamed me. Was it me? Did I deserve this . . . 

He had done right by the promise he had made that night he first did this. He had taken everything: every good memory, everything that was us, was gone. There was nothing left but him. The Derek doing this now. The Derek who tormented me relentlessly for three years. I now know why I ignored the voice today. Thinking that with the birthday present, just the movies a month ago, I could get him back. My best friend. The best friend I loved. But I was wrong. I was so wrong. 

There was no fight. He had made true on the promise of there being nothing but him. The other one, the threat he made against my Dad. He would make true. It was all him, I was all his . . . "Yours" my voice coming about as nothing more than a whisper. 

 

 

\- DEREK POV -

 

 

"Derek, sweetheart, could you come here please?" 

I had barely step foot off the stairs before the annoying voice of my Mom crowed from the living room. Each day I spend listening to her, both her and Cora, pushes me closer and closer to grabbing Stiles and getting the fuck out of Beacon Hills. I let a audible growl, knowing that she could hear me, and turn into the living room. Only to come face to face with not only my Mom by my fuck head of an uncle. 

"What do you want?" I say to both, but staring directly at my Uncles face.

"You should show some more respect, kid." My Uncle said, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Go fuck yourself, you fucking cu-"

"Please stop, both of you." My Mom spoke up from where she sat on the lounge. "Derek, please sit down. This is important." 

I let out another growl, this time more louder than before. Never taking my eyes from my Uncle. Hopefully getting the 'fuck off' message received through them. I take a seat on the opposite lounge, far from my Mom. My Uncle sitting down in the lounge chair next to my Mom.

She rubs her hands together before clearing her throat. "Okay, alright . . . you know I don't like to speak of him because it'd too hard. But your father, as you know, was very successful businessman. Henry and Uncle Peter both started the company together and sold it for a lot, as you now we've never had to worry about money." I throw my head back against the back of the lounge. Why was she telling me all this? I already fucking knew my Dad and my fuck head Uncle had a company before selling it, and that we were rich. "Henry loved both you and Cora. Very much. And before he . . . before he died he had set money away for you both," that had me bringing my head up from where I had thrown it back. "It was not to be touched until you both turned eighteen-"

"How much?" I interrupt her.

She turns her eyes away from me to look at my Uncle for a second, who had his eyes narrowed at me, before turning back. Clearing her throat again. "Well, the company did sell for a lot. And both you and Cora had money put away since you were both born... the last time I had checked, both of you have just over twenty million."

Holy fuck. That was the first thing that went through my mind. Twenty million. Twenty fucking billion. It could happen now. It could finally happen. Could? No. It's fucking happening. I'm getting out of this town and I'm taking Stiles with me. There'd be nothing to stand in my way now. "I don't think he should have it Talia. It's a bit much for teenager to have. He would lack the responsibly for it-"

"How many fucking times do I need to tell you to shut the fuck up!" The piercing crow of my Moms voice screeches my name, but I ignore her. "You don't think I should have it? Well it's a good thing your opinion means little to nothing to me. I'm taking this money and me and him, where getting the fuck out of this town and away from all of you." 

"Him?" My Uncle asks, a smirk growing on his face. "You mean the boy next door? HA!" He lets out a large laugh. I feel as my body tenses, my fists balling up. "I knew it as soon as I saw you. You're just like him; your father." 

"Peter, please." My Mom spoke.

"You're just possessive and fucked as he was. I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, huh? I can only hope that, Stiles was it? Figure it out soon and gets way from you before it's too-" That was it. I was on my Uncle before he could finish the sentence. He was bigger than me, but that didn't stop me from grabbing ahold of him and throwing him against the wall. 

"Derek! Let go of him!"

"Jeez, Talia. He's Henry reborn, huh?" He says over my shoulder to my Mom, as if I wasn't in front of him holding him against the wall.

"Derek." My Mom's now at my side, her hands on mine, trying to remove them from my Uncle's shirt. "Let go of him. He didn't mean it. Right Peter?" She turns her head away from me to stare at Peter.

Our eyes watch each other, and words go unspoken for a few moments. The same smirk he wore before I had thrown him up against the wall grew back. "Yeah. Sure, thing. I was wrong." 

As much as I want to drive my fist into his face, like I had done it a month ago to that fucker in the bathroom, I let go and backed away. He didn't know a fucking thing about Stiles; Stiles and me. Stiles was mine. Today said so its self. Stiles had said he was mine earlier when I fucked him up against his door. Gets away from me before it's too 'late'? It just proves how little my Uncle knew. He'd never get away. I wouldn't allow it. Now, with twenty million fucking dollars. We'd have it all, with my Stiles forever at my side.

 

 

\- STILES POV -

 

 

The weather report had been wrong.

The storm was meant to hit Beacon Hills tomorrow, tonight at the latest. Not now.

I had awoken to a loud clap of thunder with heavy rain pelting against my window. Even then, early in the morning, the lights had begun to flicker. I had gone downstairs, expecting to see Dad sitting at table with a coffee in hand. But all that was there was a note saying he had to go incase of storm emergencies. 

I had spent the hours of the day worrying about Dad, checking social media and seeing everyone freak out about the storm, draw, and worry more about Dad. I had tried to call Dad numerous times since this morning and now, past midday. He was busy. He hardly answered his phone when he was working... yeah. And the storm too. Yeah. He's fine.

The next thirty minutes start off my new drawing. Unlike my usual drawings, this was not a memory. Those were ruined now. It more doodling than drawing. The one I had spent the last ten minutes on was a severed line. A line that once connected two, now ripped apart. I don't know why I was drawing this... I often let my mind wonder when I doodled. Guren no Yumiya pulled me away from my thoughts and drawing as it rang from my side. 

I reach across and let my mouth fall apart a slight. The name flashing across the screen hadn't been what I was expecting. I slider across and answer it.

"Hey Scott."

"Hey Stiles. I was wondering, I know it's a bad time and all, what with this bad bitch tearing apart the town right now, but can we meet and talk? It's important."

"Uh . . . umm, I don't know, Scott..." Me seeing Scott would make him mad. I don't have it in me to fight anymore, I can't risk my Dad. I just know Derek would make true on his threat against my Dad.

"Please, Stiles. I need to speak with you . . . he doesn't have to know."

Decisions. They're what make up our lives. Good or bad, they're what drive us. I just don't know what I feel anymore. There's anger, there's hate, there's resentment, there's confusion, Hell there's love and hope that he's still there. But anger is strong. It can cloud better judgement, and make the wrong decisions. One wrong decision can affect your entire life. Is this a wrong decision? It might be... "Alright," I let a deep sigh, ". . . where?" I ask casting a quick look at my window, trying to . . . well see. There was nothing was the heavy fall of rain and the branches curving with the heavy wind. I grab my car keys and make my way downstairs.

"The school parking lot? It's not that far from either of us, right? So I'll see you in ten." 

 

 

\- - - - - 

 

 

"Hey," I say to Scott as he hops into the passenger seat of my Jeep. Drenched head to toe. I had wanted to say this since it had happened, and after what Derek would never have allowed Scott anywhere near me. "I'm sorry about . . . you know, the bathroom. I tried to stop Derek, but I -"

"It's alright, Stiles." Scott says smiling. It's then I notice that his jawline is slightly crooked. "It wasn't your fault. But that's not why I wanted to meet you here."

"Why did you want to meet here? We could've just talked about this on the phone."

Scott starts shaking his head. Small rain droplets flying off as he does this. "No. I needed to tell you this in person." He turns around me to face me more directly. "I'm good with computers. You ever need to find something that's hidden, or see into something that's not meant to be seen? I'm your guy," hey says with a cocky smirk, before riding it to continue, "there's something not right with Derek. You know that, I know that, everyone else knows that. But everyone's too afraid to say something. So I used what I'm good at to see into his history-"

"I know all of it," I interrupt Scott. For some reason I was annoyed at this... "I know everything about him. About Talia, his Mom. About Cora, his Sister-"

"What about his Dad, Henry Hale?"

I fall quiet. Derek's Dad was something never brought up. I had thought it was like my Mom. It hurt too much to think about her, let alone speak of her. I shake my head 'no' at him. 

"I found that Henry Hale, in his young teens started to develop possessive thinking and a disturbed character. At first his parents saw that the possessiveness was directed at objects. He would often fight with his younger brother, Peter Hale. But as he grew older his possessiveness got worse and he went under a major character change. It said that Henry refused all medications, but that his possessiveness was only tamed when he got what he wanted." My breathing had picked up listening to what Scott was saying. Was any of it true? If it is . . . 

"What's weird," Scott continues, "is that even though Henry and Peter never had a close relationship, they took their families money and built a company out of it. And then sold it for millions. But forgetting that . . . who does this sound like to you, Stiles."

It wasn't a question. He knew it, I knew it. But . . . "How do I know that this is just the truth, that you're not just making this up?"

"Trust me. I know we would've had a good friendship . . . maybe even more. But that can't happen. Not with Derek like he is. He's not right Stiles, he needs help. He's just like how his Dad was. You need to get away from him. I still mean it, Stiles. I'll help you." He says as he reaches across to grasp my arm.

In all the years I've spent with Derek's family, I never knew Derek's Dads name. It would have been too rude to ask for it myself. The only time he had ever been brought up was when Derek told he was dead. Could this really be Derek. Possessiveness and disturbed character, was it real or was this Scott getting back at Derek? Again, another decision leading me back to having no fucking idea what to do! 

"Can I - can I call you about this? After the storm?" I ask. Knowing that I was sporting a deep frown.

"Yes, of course. Just think about it okay. I'm here Stiles." He says, smiling again before opening the door and running back to his car. 

The drive back was quick. My mind was too full to focus on anything but driving. What do I do? I ask myself on repeat; parking my car and running up to the front, shutting behind me, and kicking off my wet shoes. If Derek's Dad had been like that he could very well have passed it down to Derek. It could be what killed my best friend and what left this behind. He still could be in there!

Stop it. I scold myself, climbing the stairs to my room.I can't do this to myself again. Anyway, it's not about me here. It's him. It's Derek. Scott -

"Where the fuck have you been?"

I stop in my tracks as I see Derek standing in my room, his black shirt wet just as his hair. The door had been locked, so the only in was my window. Had he climbed through my window? Is this storm?! "Fucking answer me!" He roared, taking a step closer to me.

"I, uh, - I went out." It was all I could get out, looking down. 

"You're lying." He grits out, taking another step forward. I raise my head and frown at him. How would be know? "I know when you're lying, Stiles. Fuck i grew up with you! . . . now fucking tell me where you were... or was it who? Who were you with? I swear to fucking God, Stiles. Tell me! You're mine-"

"I'M NOT YOURS!" I scream at him. Surprising both Derek and me; Derek's mouth gapped open. This was it. Everything held in, everything I had bottled down. The eruption. It was finally happening. "I'm not some fucking piece of clothing or an object of your so desire, Derek. I'm not here for you to order around; to dictate what friends I have and don't have. I'm not here for you to force yourself upon whenever you like!" My throat screams in pain as I yell, but I ignore it. Everything I had possibly learnt today was ignored. "I'm not yours!" I scream again.

"You are mine," Derek says but in a different tone than before. It was lighter . . . he had backed up, I only notice it now. I had it, I finally had the upper hand. "You're-"

"No I am not, Derek." I say before he could finish what he was saying. "I'm not yours. I haven't been yours for three years. Not since YOU killed it. You did this. You turned into this. You did, YOU!" Derek's dark eyes rise up and meet mine. It was the eyes I had seen for the past three years. The eyes of hate. There's one thing left to say. The one thing I've never told him with full meaning. "I don't want you. Not you. Never you." 

I watch as his features change. Almost looking like I had punched him clean in the jaw. It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the truth either. This Derek, the tormentor, was not the one I wanted. I wanted him, my best friend. 

"Fine." Derek spoke in a low deep voice, before turning on his feet towards the window. He opens it, the strong wind blowing in full force. Pieces of paper go flying off my desk. He looks back at me once more, before climbing through into the storm, closing it behind him.

I let out a deep breath. I did it. I let it out. I told him that I'm not his, that it was him who killed us. That I didn't want him. So why the fuck wasn't I feeling any better? Why was I -

I'm pulled away from my thoughts as the sound of loud scrapping against the side of the house filled my room. Before I could process what was happening, the glass to my window shattered. Shards of broken glass flying everywhere. A loud thud not a second later. What the fuck just happen -

The tree. Ah, no. The tree fell. The tree . . . oh my fucking God. Derek! . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A really awesome person called SometimesyougettheBear wrote an amazing short poem about the tree connecting Derek and Stiles' room. It's really worth the read. I loved it! - http://archiveofourown.org/works/4874149
> 
> :) :D


	14. Chapter FOURTEEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As chapters go, this is NOT the best! I just needed to get it out of the way to start Part 2 ahaha. My writing was not on point, my moods were flipping out throughout today, and I lost my sheet where I had everything planned out for this chapter. Nothing was going right today! Hahaha. But trust me, next chapter will be BETTER! ;)

\- STILES POV -

 

 

 

The fluorescent lights above would flicker even few minutes. 

I had been here, sitting and waiting, for hours now. I think it had been two, maybe four. I don't know. The only thing my mind could focus on was Derek. Seeing his unmoving body lying there among the fallen tree. The image of it, and the empty feeling wouldn't leave me. 

Talia and Derek's Uncle had rushed Derek to Beacon Memorial. I had followed close behind in my car. It had taken time. Too much time. The storm had gotten worse since I had gotten back from seeing Scott. 

I had tried ringing my Dad again before following Talia. I had tried again while sitting here waiting. He's just busy with the storm; protecting and helping people. I had spent the hours waiting sitting there. Ringing my hands together, watching the nurses and doctors and dripping wet patients move around. 

Derek will be fine. I tell myself. Even as we were kids he was stubborn. Whenever he'd catch a cold or the flu he wouldn't let it get to him. Even when he would look and move like a zombie he'd fight it and act like he was fine. He was stubborn then, and he's sure as fuck stubborn now. He'd make it through this . . . He had to. 

It kept coming back to me; what if he didn't? What if he- no! No. He doesn't get to do this. 

He doesn't get to torment me for three years; to do what he did, to make my life miserable and ruin everything we had, to just leave when I finally have the upper hand. No. I swear to God if he dies, I'll walk myself in the afterlife and fucking drag him back. 

It was the truth, I didn't want this Derek. I wanted my Derek. But that couldn't be the last words I ever said to him; I don't want you. Not you. Never you . . . they wouldn't be. No. The last words I'll hear from him is him saying sorry. 

He'll be fine. He fucking will be!

I sit there for another thirty minutes, watching the people move around and listening to the voices try and speak over the storm. 

"Stiles?" A voice calls out my name.

I stand up from my chair in a fast movement, thinking it might be a doctor calling me to tell me about Derek. Which now that I think about it it doesn't make sense. Why would they call for me . . . 

It only confirms my thinking when I look to see who'd called my name out, and seeing one of my Dads Deputies instead of a doctor. "I didn't know you'd be here yet. I'm - I'm sorry."

I frown up at Deputy Tanner. Why wouldn't I be here? And how did he know about Derek's fall? "Uh - thanks. I'm sure he'll be fine. It was a big fall, but yea - I'm sure he'll be fine."

This time it was his turn to frown at me. "Stiles . . . what are you talking about?"

"Derek . . . he was crossing the tree between our rooms when the tree fell. Of course I'd be here . . ."

I watch his features of his face change; from the frown to an almost pained expression. "Stiles . . ."

 

 

 

\- DEREK POV - 

 

 

 

Fucking Hell, shut that fucking beeping noise up! 

It was the first thought that crossed through my mind. There was a throbbing ache all across my body. My head, arm, and side hurting more than the rest. I open my eyes, only to close them again when I'm met with a bright light shinning onto my fucking face.

What the fuck. 

I blink open my eyes this time, meeting the bright light that had blinded me seconds ago. It flickered a few times before returning back to its normal form and continuing to shine onto my fucking face. The incessant beeping comes from the side of me. I make a move to get up and shut that beeping up when the throbbing pain all across my body intensifies; forcing me to stop what I'm doing. 

Ah, what the fuck is going on!

I look down at my body, only to have my chin stopped halfway. Something is wrapped around my neck; I can only just see down my body. I look to see what the throbbing is when I notice it, my left arm is wrapped in a cast, swung across my chest. The same for my left foot; a heavy cast wrapped around it. In the other hand, I had an IV sticking out of it. 

The hospital . . . the fucking tree. The thing wrapped around my neck, it had to be neck brace. It all flooded back in at once. Walking out onto that tree. Feeling as it came to life underneath my feet. The feeling of falling down towards the ground. The intense pain flooding through my body. And then darkness. Stiles . . . 

"I don't want you. Not you. Never you" his voice echoed through my head; closing my eyes, shutting me away from everything. I wanted him. I wanted to be everything he was. To make it so that evert though he had or ever would have would be about me. Nothing but me. I wanted to own him. I just . . . I just wanted him. 

Fuck. I knew what I did, what I had done, was wrong. But I had not regretted it. Doing what I did had resulted in the best thing that could have ever had happened to me. It gave me Stiles in every way I've wanted him. 

I wanted him to be mine. I had made that obvious. But what I needed - what I needed most of all was for me to be his. For Stiles to want me the same way I wanted him. He's all I've ever wanted. And when others tried to have him; get what I couldn't have . . . I wanted to hurt them. I wanted to hurt him for hurting me. His words echo through my head again. He didn't want me. I thought he had accepted it, accepted that me and him were it. Today he had given me the Spyro. A memory of when we were kids playing it on the PlayStation. Back when I had him at my side everyday.

For the first time since doing it. Since that night three years ago when he first hurt me. I felt regret . . . I can't let it happen. I won't. He was it for me. He was fucking everything; nothing matched him. I need to show him that. He didn't want me, this me? I can be anyone who wanted. I'd fucking be anyone he asked me to be. I have money now. Twenty million dollars. Whatever he wanted, wherever he wanted, I'd give it to him.

His words echo through my head again.

As much as I could, I shake my head, causing the throbbing pain to flood through my body. I can't loose him. I fucking won't. I need him. I . . . I lo-

"Derek? Derek?" 

I open my eyes to see my Mom coming in close, her eyes read with tears. "Oh, God. Thank God. I thought . . . I thought you wouldn't wake from that fall, and . . . thank God you're okay!" She comes in close and cups the sides of my face. 

Any other time I would've told her to fuck off. I hated her being this close to me. But I needed her here right now. I needed to know if Stiles was okay. The tree had fallen. He could have moved closer to the window when the tree fell . . . fuck! I needed to know where he was.

"Sti-als?" Is all I can manage to gasp out. 

A smile appears on my Moms face. She lets out a small laugh as she runs her hand down the side of my face. "He's here, sweetheart. He's out in the waiting room. 

The fucking waiting room? He's more my family than anyone blood related to me. I fucking needed him here. I needed him back. Right fucking now!

She leans in close to me and kisses my forehead. "I'm so happy you're fine. I love you, my baby boy," just fucking get him in here! "I know we may argue from time to time. But just like Henry you're just as stubborn as he was. And Gosh, I loved him for it." She lets out a small laugh. "I'll try harder, I promise. I'll be better Mom to you. I'll be there for you even more than I was before. I love you, son." 

I give her a smile, because what else was I meant to fucking do? The more she talked the more time I lost getting him back. "Do you want me to go get Stiles?" 

Yes! Fucking finally. I smile up at her a second time, more smiles I had given her in years. She gives me a smile back, cupping the side of my face again, before heading out the door. 

I drop my smile. 

Having Stiles want me is what's important right now. I don't care what I have to do, I'll have him want me. By any means necessary I'll fucking have him want me. I won't let him leave until he does. I don't care if both my arm and leg are broken, I'll chase him wherever he goes. 

When I see my Mom at the door, pushing it back open, I push myself up as much as I can before the pain wins out. I watch the door behind her, readying for when I see Stiles come in after her. But as the seconds go by, three, five, ten, no one comes in. I sit there watching the door until my Moms voice speaks up. "I couldn't find him. I think he might have left."

 

 

 

\- STILES POV - 

 

 

 

How much pain am I supposed to take until I'm allowed to be happy?

I grip onto the steering wheel as tight as I could; slamming my forehead on the wheel. Leaving it there to lay with my hands. I can feel the saltiness of my tears as they drip down to my mouth; trying my hardest to grasp for air. The clapping of thunder and the heavy pelts of rain blocking out my cries. 

I don't think there could be any other way to describe this. No other way than emptiness. Dark, deep, emptiness. 

Why? Why did I - did I do something bad? Am I being punished for something? Why? Why did I have to loose so much? My Mom, my best friend, and now . . . now Dad. 

"Stiles . . . Sheriff Stil - your Dad... he uh- he was in a car accident. He - he died" Deputy Tanner's words repeat in my head. Over and over again. "he died" he's dead. My Dad's . . . dead. I have no one. I have nothing left. 

Decisions; I was right. They make us. It had been my decision to walk out before Deputy Tanner could say anymore. It had been my decision to get in my Jeep and drive through the storm, not caring to slow down or stop at stop signs, until I pulled up into my driveway. 

I raise my head up from the steering wheel and look up my house that is barely visible through the storm. The decision I make now will affect everything. It change everything in my life. Not that there's much to change anymore. I'm alone. There's nothing here for me. Not anymore. 

Sucking in one last breath, I push open the door and walk to the door. Not caring about the rain. Not caring about anything right now. If I'm to do this. To make this decision, I can't think about it. I just have to do it.

I pull the suitcase out from the hallway closet and haul it into my room, throwing it onto my bed and zipping it open. It's not too big to be impossible to carry and not too small to not hold my belongings. I don't watch what I'm packing. I go from draw to draw, grabbing and throwing into the suitcase, until I'm finished with the draws. Grabbing the chargers to both my phone and laptop, chucking both in too, I zip up and head downstairs into my Dads study. 

So many nights I can remember seeing him hunched over his desk, looking at a sheet of paper or a screen, with a bottle in hand. No. Not now. Don't think!

I make my way over to the corner of the room, where Dads safe stayed on the floor. He had never bothered to hide somewhere safe. Because who'd in their right mind try to steal from the Sheriffs house. I enter in the code: me and my Moms birthday combined, and pull it open. On the top shelf was his extra gun, in case of emergencies. And the bottom was what I came for. Fifty thousand dollars in cash. Money Dad had saved up for years. It wasn't much, and it wouldn't last, but it will do. 

Zipping open the suitcase I grab and throw the money in with everything else I had thrown into there. Do I need it? Do I really need it? What if something happens - NO FUCKING THINKING. I grab the gun and throw it in with everything else. Zipping back up, I hurl it to the front door.

With the suitcase in the backseat, I start up my Jeep and back out of the driveway. I take one last look at the house. At the house I grew up in. The house I had a Mom and a Dad in. The house I spent the best years of my life with my parents, and my best friend. The house that had been connected to the boys house next door, through a tree that was now in ruins; pulled up from the ground. Broken, and dead. 

The storm had closed off the main exist out of Beacon Hills, but the second was clear. I don't know where I'm going. I don't know if Derek is okay. But he's not my Derek. And there's nothing left for me anymore. You can only push someone so far until they've had enough. 

 

 

 

\- TWO AND A HALF MONTHS LATER -

 

 

 

Holding the takeout bag with my teeth, I unlock the door to my motel room and push it open.

Throwing the keys onto the table, I turn on the TV and let the noise fills the room. I perch myself on the bed of the bed and open up the bag. I've been daydreaming about this all day. The day had been filled with interviews for casual or part times jobs. Nothing big, not that I could go for it. Just an easy job to get by. The fifty thousand won't last forever. I had arrived in Twin Falls three weeks ago. It was far from Beacon Hills, and a nice enough place to restart. To forget everything that was the past. 

Just as I am about to unwrap my burger I had dreamed off all day my pocket started to vibrate, the ringtone following not a second later. Pulling it out, seeing it as an unknown number. No one knew me here so it wasn't unusual; might be manager calling back saying I got the job!

"Hello?" I answer, sounding a bit too eager. 

"Hello, Stiles."

I feel my stomach drop as Derek's voice fills my ear. 

"Stiles? Has the cat got your tongue? Well, no matter. I don't want you to speak anyway. I want you to listen." 

"How - how'd you get this number?" I finally find my voice, and ask him the first thing that came to mind. I had changed my number. It was one of the first things I had done getting away from Beacon Hills and all its pain. 

"What did I just say, Stiles? You are to listen. Not speak." His voice . . . it's different. It's not the heavy growling I had come to know. It's... it's - I don't know. Different. Not even a minute after hearing his voice he has managed to turn me back into the boy who didn't know anything. "You left me," his changed voice continues. "Granted you had your reason. With your Father and all. But you left. You ran away from me. And what did I once say to you? That if you ran I'd find you. Well guess what, Stiles . . . this chapter has ended, but not the story. For you are the reader, and I'm the writer. And only I know the ending to this story. You may run and you may hide, but I now have the resources to find you, wherever you hide. So run, Stiles. Run! For this game of Cat and Mouse has only just begun."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're all happy how Part 1 progressed. I didn't know what I was going into when I wrote the first chapter. I just winged it and I think it turned out alright, well I hope it did. Hopefully it was good for all of you too :) 
> 
> \- Stiles is now on the run from Derek. A Derek who has a lot of money at his disposal. Part 2 (Chapter 15 and onwards) is coming very soon! :D


	15. Chapter FIFTEEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, there's a bit of a time jump. But stick with me on this >;D

\- STILES POV - 

 

 

"Hey, you," warm lips press against the back of my neck, large muscled arms wrap around my waist. 

A large smile pulls at my lips, "Hi, there," I say, turning around to face him, his arms still at my waist. "What are you doing here? I thought you were working tonight?"

"I had a cancelation; I got off early. So I thought I'd come and see you when you got off," a dimpled smile grows across his face, ". . . get to spend time with you now."

Looking up at him, at his handsome features, it was hard to believe I was here. That I was lucky enough to deserve this second chance. 

Of course here, Odessa, hadn't been my first stop. I had spent nearly two years running, moving from town to town. Never staying in one place for too long. But the constant running and motel charges had chewed away at my money fast. 

So I had created anew life three years ago; a new person. Stiles Stilinski died the moment I crossed into Odessa. Bringing life to Mark Mercer. Not the most unique of names, but it worked. He hadn't found me. Not in all these years. 

I won't lie. There are times I think about my best friend; my tormentor. It's met with the fear that he's close. That when I look over my shoulder he'll be there. Watching and waiting to take me. But looking up at Dash I'm reminded of this second chance. This new life I created almost five years ago, it was good. I was . . . happy.

I had had trouble letting people in. I couldn't risk it. But Dash and Erica Reyes had slipped in through the cracks. Erica lived in the house next to the one I had brought with what was left of the money I had taken from my Dads safe. The friendship was quick to grow. Erica owned her own bar; she'd helped me land a job as bartender for her - not that I knew anything about bar tending, but she had taught me the logistics of it. I turned out pretty well. It was through her that I met her brother, Dash.

Being with another person was not something I thought would happen. Not after him. But Dash . . . I don't think there's been a moment since I met him that I haven't smiled or laughed. Erica had managed to push us together five months ago. 

He was dressed in his regular polo shirt and cargo shorts. The green polo pulled tight across his muscular torso. His sandy blonde hair was spiked and styled at the front. His bright blue eyes always shined with happiness. For the five months we've dated he has never restricted me from leaving my house, he has never tormented me or hurt me. Dash was everything he wasn't.

"Do you want to go out, or just head to mine? We can turn the music up loud and annoy Erica." I say with a laugh. Spending time together usually involved just hanging out; watching TV, going out, annoying Erica - or me and Erica teaming up on Dash, and kissing. Though it hasn't gone farther than that. Even after all these years, just the thought of it, with another . . . I couldn't. I had said I needed time, and Dash being Dash, said he'd wait. 

"Hmm," he says, putting on a 'thinking face'. "Well as fun as that sounds, if we did that I wouldn't be able to show you off to everyone." He leans in and plants a quick kiss on the end of my nose. 

"Ah!" I lean away. My laughs joining in with his. "Alright," I say when our quiet laughs die down, "just let me go home and change, and I'll meet you at the bar in an hour?" 

Eight minutes later I'm pulling up into my drive way. The house I had brought wasn't the biggest or best, but it was all I needed. Plus having Erica next door made it worth the while. Thirty minutes later I'm showered and changed into a simple plain black tee and a pair of dark jeans. Grabbing my jacket and my keys, I head back out to meet Dash at the bar. 

The night had gone like how it usually did with us; we spent most of the time drinking and laughing. Every now and then we'd lean in close and whisper a few words to each other. Two hours later he'd driven behind me while I drive home; walking me to the door. Something he's done since we first started dating. There's a kiss goodbye and a promise to talk tomorrow. I watch as he walks to his car and gets in. I'm not ready for anything farther, even after all this time. But right now. It was good.

I watch as he drives away, my eyes following his car. I turn to walk through the door when I notice it, the black car with dark widows parked near the streetlight. There's a moment when the hair on the back of necks stands and I feel my stomach drop, but I push passed it. This isn't the first time my paranoia had gotten to me. It wasn't him. It couldn't be. I'm Mark now. He'd never know how to find me, I tell myself. 

It's nothing. Just a parked car. I continue to tell myself; turning towards the door and walking in.

 

I'm awoken by not only the blinding sunlight streaming in through the blinds, but also from the loud ringtone coming from my bedside table. 

Groaning, I reach across and grab it to answer it.

"Hello?" I rasp out. After only just waking up seconds ago, it was too soon to be talking to people. 

"You just woke up, didn't you?" Erica's voice came through the speaker. "My God, Mark. It's midday. Get up, we're going out. And before you ask, yes. You have to!"

I let out a groan. Not even thinking about arguing with her about this. I know better than to argue with Erica. I let out a sigh, "Give me an hour." I end the call. A smile pulling at my mouth as I push away at the covers, and head towards the bathroom.

Starting over had done a lot of things. It had showed me what I didn't have back in Beacon Hills; with him. Here, Mark had a good life growing. He is in a relationship with a guy that is almost too perfect. He has a great friendship with someone who isn't afraid to be seen with him. He has a stable job, a stable life. It showed me everything Stiles didn't have. 

I cup my hands underneath the cool water and splash my face. My hand running down my mouth and jaw, feeling the light stubble scrape against my palm. I pull back at my messy bed hair, coming it back with my fingers. I had let it grown from the old spiked hair I had five years ago, to long hair I had to comb back. I pull on a pair of grey briefs, dark jeans, a blue tee, and brown jacket over my tee; leaving it unzipped. Grabbing an energy bar from the kitchen, I pick up my wallet - not bothering with the keys, Erica always drives - and head out the door. 

Walking down the path and crossing over to Erica's front lawn, the thought that has crossed my mind many times before came. It's funny, that someone who I considered a good friend - maybe my best friend, lives next door to me. Though I doubt Erica, someone who did everything she could to push me and Dash together, would be anything like he was. 

Having a best friend, a real best friend; someone that will always be there for you, barging themselves into your life - in the good way, was rare. I have it now. Erica, even Dash was that. But I had it once before too. With him. I remember it, the good times I mean. Hell, there's even moments I smile at the memories of crossing the tree between our rooms to spend hours with each other. But those memories were always followed by the dark ones. The ones that reminded me of that night. The night that set of a chain of events that lead to me being here today. Of course it wasn't just him. My Dad dying; having no one left was a major part of why I left. I shake my head. Stop it. I scold myself. Thinking about everything back then didn't do anything but hurt. 

Just as I start to walk up the footpath to Erica's house, the corner of my vision catches it. The black car with tinted window from the night before was there, parked across from our houses. 

I don't know why my body reacts the way it does to this car; the hairs on the back of my neck stand, the muscles of my back tighten, and my breathing becomes heavy. It's a car. I tell myself. An ordinary car. I'm Mark. No ones knows who I was. He doesn't know. He couldn't . . . 

I don't know how long I was staring at the car; it coming alive broke me from my thoughts. I watch as the car pulls out of its parked position and drives past. My eyes following the passenger window as it passes by me.

I'm being stupid. This isn't first time I've felt like this, and it probably won't be the last either. Living like this; on the run with a new name, it'll always be like this. But there's no other way. It was just a car. A car that belonged to someone who lived on this street. It was nothing. 

 

 

"Hey, Mark. Can you hold down the bar for a bit? I gotta go check something out back." Erica says at my side, her hand squeezing my arm to get my attention. I was forty minutes into my shift and the place was quiet. The regulars sat in their spots, but it wasn't packed like it was on weekends. Which was good when I had to man the bar myself.

"Sure thing," I say to her with a smile, staring into the same bright blue eyes her brother has.

"You're the best." She flashes me a bright smile before heading through the back.

After this morning with the car we had done what we usually do when we went out. We had walked around through the Mall; Erica dragging me to every clothing store there was. Then going out to get food. While Erica not-so- discretely brought up about moving in with Dash by saying having Dash close again would be good again. Erica knew I was and liked 'taking it slow' and that we haven't go farther than a kiss. 

Dash and I had gone a little more farther that once. In the heat of the moment when I had a bad day; when my memories of five years would stop, I had clashed my mouth against his, and we had ground against one another until completion. 

Though Erica didn't know that, I could never tell her. For a couple of reasons. One being it was brother. Another was how I felt afterwards. After doing that, I felt . . . I don't know. All I knew was I felt wrong. So I had kept it to just kissing each other since. 

"Hey, what can I get you?" I ask with a smile as the well built dark skinned male takes a seat at the bar. 

He doesn't say a thing for a few moments, his dark brown eyes staring down into mine. His brow takes on a heavy frown before finally answering in a quiet - yet deep voice. "Just a beer."

I feel his eyes on me as I grab a cup and fill it to the brim with beer. I try not to make too much out of this. I've had eyes stare at me from over the bar before. But I've never liked it . . . in fact I hated having the weight of staring eyes on me.

"Will there be anything else?" I keep my smile plastered on my face, even thought the heavy eyes were making me uncomfortable.

He takes the beer in his hands but keeps it there. He doesn't raise it up to drink it, he just holds it. He nods, and says: "What's your name?"

"Mark."

Being asked this question, and many other personal questions wasn't new to me. I have had dozens of females, and males, ask me my name, my age, my relationship status. It was easy now to just smile and answer them. 

"Hmm." was the only response he gave, narrowing his eyes, before he sat back in his chair and pulled out his phone. His thumbs began to move quick across the screen. Thankful for the wight of his stare to finally be off me, I take it as he was done. I moved down the bar just as a woman came up to order her drinks. 

It was another ten minutes, two more orders, until Erica came back out from the back. 

The remaining hours of the night flew by like all the others. Although the heavy weight of eyes from the guy at the bar weighed down on me once again after Erica returned. Not long after the guy had disappeared, leaving money where his empty glass stood. Apart from that the night had remained a slow one. 

Like usual, I help Erica up with the clean up and lock up, and walk her to her car. There's no doubt she could handle herself against anyone who tried anything. Hell, she stood up to Dash - who'd been a quarterback in high school; being larger than Erica, and struck fear in him. But still I liked walking her to her car just incase . . . 

We say our goodnights, saying we'll see each other tomorrow, and I watch as she drives out and towards our houses. I turn on my heel and head towards my car. 

Starting over with a new life had, obviously, difficult. But getting rid of my Jeep had been hard. 

But my Infiniti FX45 was an acceptable replacement. My mind had gone back to guy who had stared at me tonight. I looked around the dark car park as I walked over to my car, checking that I was in fact alone. Walking up to my car door, I unlock it, and hop in. Locking it after I close the door. My paranoia was getting to me, yet again. 

The drive from work to home took its usual eight to ten minutes. I look on over at Erica's driveway, seeing that her car was parked with her living room light on. Something I'd been doing for ages - just checking on her after I come home after her. 

Walking in through the door, I drop my keys in the bowl next the door, and switch on the lights. I unbutton the first button of my shirt, and loosen the black tie of my bar tenders uniform. Just as I'm walking from the door towards the dinning room, about to shred off my black vest, I'm stopped by a nightmare.

"Five years." 

A deep voice came from behind me. I stop dead in my tracks. The muscles of my back becoming rigid, my eyes widening. The voice . . . It sounds - doesn't matter how it sounds, nor the comment. There's someone in my house. Behind me. I can run for the gun I keep in my room. The hallway from the dinning room/kitchen was a short one. I could -

"Turn, around, Stiles. Let me see you."

Stiles. Hearing another voice speak my old name took the air from my lungs. The muscles in my back tightening more; my spine becoming straighter. All logical and non logical thoughts leave me as I turn my head over my shoulder to face the voice who knew my old name. It's not - no. No...

The man stood off in the far corner of the room, and arms reach from the door. I had walked into the darkness of the house without seeing him. My gaze tracks over to him, landing onto his eyes. Those storm green eyes I once knew every detail about. His eyes. No! I kick off from my feet and try and make it to the hallway. 

Five years. Fiver years. No. No. No. He couldn't. I'm Mark; I'm Mark! He couldn't have found me. There's no way he could've - 

The thoughts raced through my head as I ran down the hallway, getting closer and closer to my bedroom - to my bedside table that holds the gun. The room was just an arms length when I'm tackled to the ground. A heavy wight crashing down onto me. My arms harshly pulled above me, being held down on the hardwood floor by a hand, keeping me locked down. I start to struggle. Trying to push up against the weight of him on me. I'm the boy anymore. I've changed. This won't happen. This can't happen again!

The feeling of scraping stubble scratches against the side of my face. I try and turn my face, struggling more against the weight. "Your hair got longer . . ." His warm breath was felt on my ear. His voice deep. "I'm not sure I like it. We'll have to change that now, won't we?" I feel him push his midsection down onto me harder. 

I start to scream out. Someone would have to hear me. Erica would hear me. The sound barely leaves my throat before a hard grip takes ahold of my hair and slams my head into the hardwood floor. I let out a cry of pain, that turns into: "No. No, no . . . not again." 

A deep laugh comes from behind me. "It appears that the cat has caught the mouse," he lets out another laugh, "five years. Five fucking years you evaded me. Though I am impressed you managed to hide this long, the rage that I feel that you ran from who you belong to is more dominant here. Along with the fucking fact that you've let someone else taste what's mine!" His voice rises up to a roar. The hand that held my arms above my head tightened, crushing them. Dash. He knows about him. But how? . . . how is this happening? He - "It's time for me to reclaim what's mine. Five years, Stiles. You've ran for five years. But now anew chapter has begun. A chapter, a story, a life you will never ever escape from. Not again."

I felt his free hand takes ahold of my black work pants and roughly shoved them down, to reveal my grey briefs. "Oh, briefs now, huh? That'll have to change. I enjoy the feeling of ripping your boxers off you." I says as my briefs were shoved down to meet my jeans. 

There's a moment of nothing when I try and put everything I have into my strength and push up against him, but I sudden wet finger presses against my entrance and shoves its way in. A heavy hand falls over to crush against my mouth, muffling the screams I cry out. 

Why? It was all that I could process. I was unable to move, unable to fight against this. I had it. I had a new life, a life that was good. I have a perfect boyfriend, a great friend, a good job, I had what everyone deserves in life. Why was being taken away from me? Why is it that I don't deserve it? That I'm forced, again, to this? He had added more fingers; shoving them into me, before pulling them out. I knew what was coming. I felt the tears fall from the corners of my eyes. How is it that after all these years, becoming a different person, a stronger person, that he's able to destroy it just like that? Why? 

The feeling of something thicker and larger than his fingers press against my entrance. Over the groans that are escaping from my throat, I could hear the deep sigh he releases. "Fucking Hell! . . . five years. Five fucking years I've been waiting for this." I feel him press in harder against me. "To make you mine again!" He pushes in a slow pace for a moment before he shoves in will full force.

Five years ago, in my old room on that night. It had been like this. This man who had once been my best friend, someone I had loved, turned into a monster with his skin had turned my life into a nightmare. A nightmare he ruled. A nightmare I had escaped. Only to be dragged back into it. Five years later . . . I was living the nightmare of my best friend; my tormentor doing this to me.

His thrusting takes on a brutal pace. The tearing pain flood through my body as his movements pick up more speed and harshness. His head lowers back down, the scratching feeling of his stubble was back. "Even after all these years, you're still mine. Say it, Stiles. Say what you are." His large hand now hovers over my mouth. 

I don't answer him. Instead I say with every emotion I can muster. I say it remembering all the pain I've felt over these past years. I say the one thing I could never feel back then . . . until now. "I hate you." 

His thrusting comes to a stop. The deep laugh from before erupts from behind me. "That's good. Because guess what, Stiles." He says as he takes ahold of my hair. "I fucking hate you too. But you belong to me. You. Are. Mine!" He says each word with a hard thrust into me, before the hand that grips my long hair pulls back, pulling my head back at an odd angle. And shoves forward. Making everything go black.

 

 

There's pain and tightness. Pain radiating from my head, and a tightness that comes from my hands that hang above me. I try and pull away from the tightness. Only to meet with residence. My eyes shoot open, immediately rising up to look above me. I see my arms, both of them, tied with a thick black rope to a bed head I don't recognise. 

Panic floods through as I dash my head around seeing that everything that's around me is something I don't recognise. The bed my arms are tied to was large with dark blue covers. The room was large with white coloured walls. The sky outside the window was a deep blue . . . showing the tops of buildings... skyscrapers. My chest rises up and down at a fast rate. Panic filling everything that I am. I look down at myself and see that I have nothing on. I'm naked with my arms tied above me in a room - a place I don't recognise. Derek . . . five years built up, three years of a good life. Gone . . . Dash and Erica... tears start to fall once again, as a sound mixed between a cry of pain and growl of anger breaks from my throat. The sound leaves my lips just as the door I hadn't seen until now on my left opens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> . . . yeah. The happiness wasn't going to last. It's me, the darker the better  >:D 
> 
> This'll be different from Part 1 of this story. It's been five years since Stiles has ""belonged"" to Derek. Stiles has changed, but so has Derek. Erica and Dash will be back! >;) - I hope you're all okay that I created a new character. 
> 
> Also - elements from Part 1 will continue on in Part 2. The tree being one :)


	16. Chapter SIXTEEN

\- DEREK POV - 

 

 

I hate him. Yet I want him, I crave him, I want everything that he is. Because he's mine.

Five years. Five fucking years what was mine ran from me; hid from me. The day in the hospital room when my mother told me he wasn't there, a strange combination of feelings ran through me. Rage was one. It was expected. How dare he think he could leave. The other feeling I felt was worry. I feared that something may have happened to him. It was the day he had told me he didn't want me. It was the day I had decided to make him again want me; to become what he wanted. To be wanted by him . . . he was everything I wanted, everything I needed. So when I had found out he had left; had cleared out his room and left with what money his father had had, I had barely kept in the anger I felt. 

I had chased, of course. Though I had no idea where he went I looked. That is until my inheritance came in, that's when I had all the resources to find him. Not so long later the investigators I had hired to find him came through and found his location: Twin Falls, with his phone number too. Though it was a bad decision I couldn't resist it; to call that number and tell him that I was coming to get it. 

It had given him the time to pick up and run again. Oh and he ran. It was as I had said it, a game of cat and mouse. Some would talk against me chasing Stiles across the States looking for him, but fuck those people. He was mine. And he belonged to me!

The longer and longer the chase went on, the urge to make him want me faded. Until it came to the point that it didn't matter if he wanted it or not. I was going to find Stiles - my fucking Stiles - and claim him as mine. 

It wasn't until five fucking years that the investigators - the best that money could buy - finally came to me with an image of him. 

His hair was longer; pulled back, his face had stubble, and he hand some fucking pricks arm wrapped over his shoulder. He had taken on a fake name; Mark Mercer. Who worked as a bar tender for his next door neighbour's bar. Who was fucking dating some douche bag frat looking guy named Dash Reyes. 

I had stared at the photo of them for hours. Noticing the large smile that pulled at Stiles' lips that caused a reaction in side of me - a reaction I chalked up to be anger. But I had mostly stared at the other guy; the arm around my Stiles' shoulders. 

This guy was the complete opposite of me . . . blonde hair, blue eyes, dressed in a fucking polo shirt and cargo shorts. The frat looking douche was nothing compared to me; he was nothing to Stiles like I was. I had had it in mind to kill him. To break every single bone in his body for thinking he could have what was mine.

But I had restrained. Killing him was not the priority here. Reclaiming Stiles was what was more important. And reclaimed I had. I had almost forgotten how perfect his tightness was; what it felt like to be inside of him. It was feeling I craved. It was a feeling I'll never loose again. 

After knocking him out I had finished reclaiming him and made it so he wouldn't regain consciousness for another handful of hours. I had tied him to bed frame of my bed, now our bed, for two reasons: one, so he wouldn't do a foolish thing like run from me, again. And two . . . I needed his arms restrained for what I had planned.

I had come in every thirty minutes since arriving back home to see if he had awoken yet. It was midday when I opened the door to finally seeing his warm chocolate brown eyes awake; a noise like a plea for help was leaving his mouth just as I opened the door.

"Good, you're awake."

 

 

\- STILES POV -

 

 

I watched as he walked into the room and made his way over to sit on the edge of the bed, close to me.

I pull at the restraints that hold my hands to the bed frame in one last effort to try and get up off from this bed, only to meet with resistance. I watch as he stares down at me, watching me try and escape this hold. He didn't look like the best friend; also tormentor I left behind years ago. Derek's body was now large. The muscle in his arms showed through the white dress shirt he wore. His black hair remained the same short and spiked style, but black stubble now ran along his jaw. "Let me go. Now!" I grit out through clenched teeth.

He lets out a deep sigh, his hand stretching out and rests on my pec. His thumb rubbing cross my nipple. Ignoring my struggles to rid myself of the restraints, Derek's voice fills the room. "Even after reclaiming you, it's like a dream that you're back with me. That you are, again, mine." His hand stretches out runs across my chest, reaching up to my collarbone. The corner of his mouth tugs upwards, his eyes refusing to break contact with mine. "Your pendant is gone. No matter," his hand leaves my chest as he hops up off the bed and walks around the bed. The pendant. Getting rid of it was the last thing I had done to start over. To forget the past, and move forward. I don't know why but for the two years I ran the pendant had stayed hanging from my neck. My eyes follow him as he walks over to the desk that sat in the corner, "you have another you'll wear." He pulls out the draw, and bring out a silver circular pendant hanging from a long silver chain. Much like the one he had given me all those years ago. 

Before I can throw my head into the pillows, the hands are there. Wrapping around my neck. I could feel the chill of the cold silver from the centre of my chest. "Do you want to know what it says?" He ask leaning back to hover over me. I only stare up at him, hoping that my eyes speak everything. "It says what you are. What you've always been, Stiles." He raises his hand and rubs his finger tips along the pendant. "It says 'MINE'."

"They'll look for me." My voice comes out in a crack. "Erica will, and . . ." I sneer up at him. "and Dash," his eyes darken; his features turn to stone, "he'll look for me!"

A deep humourless laugh comes from above me, filling the room. "Do you really think they'll find Mark, Stiles?" Another laugh leaves his mouth. "They'll never find you, Stiles. And even if they try - if he tries to take you away, they'll never find what's left of him."

Before I could open my mouth with a response, his body moves into action. My eyes start to follow his arm as he reaches over to the beside table, only to be pulled back to what's hovering above when I feel his thick fingers press and push against my entrance. 

A groan escapes from my mouth a moment before I arch and flail my legs, trying my hardest to push him off me. But as he straddles my thighs, his muscled weight holding me down. His thick finger pushes into me just as his arm returns from the bedside table. I want to groan out again, I want to scream and yell at him, but I won't. Five years ago I wanted to be strong, to not be the weak boy anymore. I'm not that boy anymore. He will not hear my groans and screams.

His thick finger momentarily leaves my body before it's shoved back in me, this time a cool wet feeling with it. What he had reached for; it had been lubricant. A second thick finger pushes at my rim. I slam my eyes shut and clench my teeth as hard as I can. Refusing to make a sound. Feeling him open me up, I try to picture something else in the darkness behind my eyelids. 

I try and picture Dash. Try and picture us like this but different. His face comes to me, his sandy blonde hair; his bright blue eyes; his sun kissed skin. I try and hear his voice, try and hear his laugh that always managed to bring a smile to me. When it morphed into something else, into another face. Where Dash's blonde hair should be, there was now black. The same colour black showed as stubble grew along his jaw. Until his blue eyes turned to green, and I was staring at a different face. 

Sudden pain floods through my body as the fingers from his free hand grabs onto my nipple and pinches and twists hard at it. My eyes shoot open, but my teeth manage to clench tight; no sound leaving through my mouth. 

"Keep your fucking eyes on me, Stiles." He growls down at me as his fingers that had been stretching me open leave my body, before his body manoeuvres downward, pushing my thighs apart. I want to kick him, I want to hurt him. I don't want this. But what can I do. My hands were tied, I couldn't move. 

I feel the thickness of his head press against my stretched entrance. He pushes in with one hard shove. My back arches up, and my teeth bite down on my bottom lip. The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth. 

Rough hands grasp and clench down tight onto the skin of my torso as he thrusts into me hard. I try. I try and hold it down, to hold down my screams and groans. I couldn't let him hear them. But I fail. A loud mix between a cry and moan erupts from my mouth. 

"Yes, that's it." Derek speaks. His thrusts into me growing harder and speeding up. "Let me hear it. Let me hear your moans for me." More groans, moans, and cries escape through my lips. He had gotten my groans out of me, but he will not get my tears. They pool the at edge of my eyes, but I will myself to not let them fall. I'm strong, I tell myself as I feel his large hand grab ahold of my cock, and starts to pull and stroke my cock with his thrusts into me. I'm strong. I am strong!

 

 

\- - - - - 

 

 

Opening my eyes to meet a dark room, my wrists still hurt from when they were tied above me to the bed frame. 

After Derek had finished inside of me, he disappeared into a room on the left and returned back with a towel in hand. After cleaning up that was when he untied the restraints from my hands. I had tried to make my move and move up from the bed, ignoring the pain radiating from my backside. But I had gotten barley and inch away before Derek's thick muscled arm was wrapped around me, pulling me in tight to him. 

It was then, as I could feel his warm breath on the back of my neck, did I let the silent tears fall.

I don't move as I track my surroundings with my eyes. The window that faced me showed me that the sky, like the room, was dark. I hadn't meant to fall asleep. I - I didn't know what to do. What fuck. Of course you know what do to. Get the fuck up! I roar at myself. 

I carefully place my hands on the large arm that was wrapped around me. Feeling the warmth of his skin touch mine; warmth traveling through the touch, and rushing through me. Pushing the warmth aside, I lay his arm on the mattress, and slowly push myself up off the bed.

The coldness of the floor is the first thing that hits me. I look down, through the low light shinning in through the window I see the floor is black marble. The second is that I'm naked. I look around in a rush. Quietly search for anything to cover myself with. The only thing I find is the white dress shirt Derek had been wearing, but not his pants. Where the fuck are his pants? A low groan pulls me away from my panicked thoughts. I quickly pull it over my shoulders, not bothering with buttoning it up and rush towards the door he had come in through.

The door opens up into a hallway. With the same black marbled floor and white walls as the room I was just in. I squint as I try and see through the darkness, just seeing that the hallway only goes oneway. As quietly as I could I rush towards the archway out. 

I don't know what I'm going to do. I just . . . I just couldn't do this again. I can't. Not again. No. I'm strong. I'm strong now. Find a phone. Call for help. Arm yourself. End this. It all rushed through my head as I come out of the hallway into a large room that consisted of a large kitchen, and a long dinning table that sat in front of floor to celling glass. Looking out of the window, I feel the air leave my lungs. 

Before I had been sure I'd seen buildings out of the window. I hadn't thought to check back in that room. But seeing it now . . . I'm far from the place I called home.

The floor to celling glass looked out over an ocean of towering lights. It went on forever. A never ending ocean of moving lights. I couldn't name the city, but it was large. Where had he taken me? 

The room continued on passed the dinning table and kitchen where a dark sofa and four lounge chairs sat in an upside down U shape. The room split off into two hallways. I make the decision and turn towards the one of my right. 

The chill from the marbled floor was met with each step I took. I make it through and into another hallway that went in opposite ways. How fucking big is this place! I scream in my head. I make another right, walk past the corner, and come to a stop. Wooden doubled door faced me. This could be the entrance! How I'm dressed didn't matter. They'd see me, and help me. I reach forward and grab ahold of the handles of the door. 

"That's not the front door, if you were wondering." His deep voice spoke from behind. The hairs on the back of my neck stand, and the muscles of my back tighten. The same response he always manages to take from me. "You passed it already walking through the living. That's the door to my office," his voice comes in closer, until I feel the warmth of his body through the shirt - his shirt. "If you ever go in there without my permission, you'll be punished. Severely." I hear him inhale before he runs his nose along the back of my neck. 

I square out my shoulders and bring my right forward. I'm about to punch my elbow back when his hand grabs ahold of it, his other hand taking my left elbow too. He lets out a soft chuckle. "You'll have to do better than that, baby." I try and struggle and find my voice. Where the fuck - why? Why does this happen. How is it that he does this to me? Why me? I'm strong. I'm strong! 

He pulls me backwards, backdown through the hallway and into the large room I had just walked through. "Derek." It comes out through my mouth, before I could even think about it. I didn't even know what I was going to say, but I wasn't going to find out.

Derek's name had just left my mouth when I was suddenly moving backwards fast, until I was pushed up against the large window, with Derek standing in front of me. His hands take ahold of my tender wrists and place them above me, holding them there. "Hearing you say my name while only wearing my shirt . . . fucking perfect." He breathes out, lowering his head until he rests his forehead on mine. 

I could list them. Each and every feeling I'm feeling right now. Anger. Scared. Hatred. And so much more. I hate him. I hate him so much for this. I hate that he killed my best friend and took on this form. I hate that he's taken what should be the best thing in the world and turned it into a nightmare. But I fucking hate him for what he does to me. I feel it. It's there, I cry out to myself. I don't love him. I don't like him. But it's there. Whatever it is, it's fucking there. The warmth...

His head rises up from mine. His right arm falls from my hand above, my left hand falls and balls into a fist. His right reaches forward and grasps something I had forgotten about since now. His thumb running across the engraving that said 'MINE'. His eyes raise up from the pendant to meet mine; his storm green eyes staring down into my brown ones. I wasn't wrong. It's there. I feel it . . . but whatever fucking hold he has on me, I will fight it. I will fight it until I have nothing left inside of me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to let you guys that I'm working on a non dark Stiles and Derek story! - I know, it's surprising to me too! :O it'll deal with a straight Stiles meeting Derek after his breakup with Lydia, only to have Derek change his life in a huge way. But unlike this story, Stiles' family won't be as accepting. It also has a volcano in it that will explode. I had to add that: I'm a nerd when it comes to volcanoes ;D
> 
> The office - Stiles isn't allowed in there. I wonder why ;) ;) oh and Stiles isn't going to fall for his best friend turned tormentor that easy this time. There's whatever he's feeling inside of him, that's mixed with a lot of hatred. But love isn't something that'll happen anytime soon! I hope I cleared that up :D


	17. Chapter SEVENTEEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This, for me, was a "step stone" chapter. It's short, and I had to get it out the way for the good stuff. I hope it turned out okay. I'm sorry if it didn't :( ahaha.

\- STILES POV -

 

 

"What movie did you get?" I ask him when he walks back into the room, holding the DVD case at his side. 

"You'll see." He says, with a smile in his voice. Putting the disc in the tray, and then taking a seat on the red beanbag beside the blue one I always sit in. 

Yesterday, me and Derek had decided that we were going to watch our first R18+ movie when Derek's Mom had gone out. Derek was meant to come to my house to spend the day, but we used the day to watch a restricted movie. Derek had gone downstairs to the cabinet, and had picked one of the movies we weren't allowed to watch. 

"It better not be a scary one!" I say to Derek, giving him the best death glare I can muster. 

He only meets my playful death glare with his bright green eyes and smirking smile. The death glare falls instantly. It was near impossible to stay annoyed, even fake annoyed, when that smile would spread across his face. 

 

 

I am pulled away from the dream, pulled away from that smile, by a pair of warm lips, mouthing at my neck. And a full feeling mixed with both pleasure and pain. There's movement behind me, then skin slaps against mine. I realise then that he's inside of me.

A groan leaves my mouth.

"This," Derek's warm breath breathed across my neck. His arm wrapping around my torso, cutting and squeezing my pec. Moving in and out of me at a slow pace, but with hard thrusts. "This is how I imagined it; how it should be." 

"Me being held against my will?" I ask, my voice speaking through my clenched teeth, coming out in morning raspiness; refusing to feel the pleasure. 

He lets out a deep growl, before the mouth that was at my neck stopped and began to suck, hard, at one spot. Just as he brutally thrusts into me, and staying. Causing me to wince. 

Derek's mouth leaves my neck and comes up to my ear, running his lips along the shell. I feel the arm that's wrapped around me, holding onto my pec, tremble. His slow but hard movements start up again. Causing a moan to escape from my clenched teeth. 

"When will you accept it, Stiles. You're mine -"

"No," I groan out, interrupting him.

His thrusting into takes on a faster pace; his hand leaves my pec, only to come to my hip and shove me into the mattress, so now that he's more on top of me. "Accept it, Stiles! Because I can't again. Without you, I -" He lets out a loud growl, stopping his voice mid sentence. What was he saying? What was he about to -

"Argh!" I scream out, gripping the edge of the mattress, as he starts pounding into me hard. I don't them show, I don't them fall, but I feel them at the edges of my eyes; tears pooling at the edges. I'm strong. I tell my self - I try and tell myself.

Thirty minutes later I'm seated at a dinning table, with a plate of buttered toast in front of me, a glass of orange juice next to it. After Derek had finished doing what he was doing, he'd cleaned me up and had gone into the bathroom, telling me to wait for him to finish. 

He'd thankfully let me shower myself, but had waited for me to finish. I sit there, running my hands through my hair; pushing it back, before taking a bite out of the toast. 

"Do you still draw?" Derek asks from where he was seated, directly across from me. The bright morning light shinned in through the large floor to celling window on the right, warming both mine and his faces. 

Now that it was light out I had gotten a better look at this place. I had been correct about the floors, they were black marble. The walls were white, without any pictures hanging from the walls. The furniture was all new, but it looked as if no one sits in them. The place had no comfort. It was cold. 

"Not so much, anymore."

"I'll have a room set up for you, so you can continue drawing. You're very good."

I look up at him, seeing that he's staring right back at me, but I don't respond to it and look back down, continuing eating. I don't want him to see it, but drawing again had been something I've been wanting to do for so long - try five years. 

Neither Dash or Erica knew I could draw. For some reason I didn't want to let them know I could. I guess it was because that was Stiles' skill. Not Mark's.

The conversation had drifted; he would ask, and I would answer in short sentences.

"How is your breakfast? I can have anything made for you."

"No it's fine."

"What sort of clothes do you want? You're here now, with me, but you also need clothes... for when we go out."

"Uh . . . just what I always wear. Plain tee and jeans."

"You will need a new phone. Do you have any preference to what phone you want?"

"I don't care."

I had just finished my glass of orange juice when a chime echoed through the room. The next moment a dark skinned man walked around the corner, dressed in a dark suit. 

My mouth slightly falls open. This man is the same man that had came in that into the bar. The same man who'd asked me what my name was and then typed on his phone. He knows Derek . . . of fucking course he does. I watch as the man walks in, leans in, and whispers into Derek's ear. 

Derek's face had been neutral as we spoke over breakfast. He had even showed a slight smile. But as I watch as the man speaks into his ear; the neutral look vanishes. A dark look I know all too well appears. 

He stands up from his chair, pushing the plate away from him. I push mine away too, readying myself to stand up, when his voice stops me. "Don't you fucking move! I mean it Stiles. Stay right fucking here, or else!" 

I set in place a deep frown, looking up at him. 

"What the fuck have I done?" It came out before I could stop it; it had only meant to be a thought. But he doesn't respond. He turns his back on me, and walks towards the other end of this massive room. Towards his office. With the man following behind him. 

The slamming of a door echoed throughout the room. 

I hate him. I hate him so much for every fucking thing. I didn't do anything. We were sitting here, eating and talking. What had the man, the man who was obviously working for Derek; he'd come in and asked me what my name was and must've messaged it to Derek, said to him? 

You don't hate him. My hand instantly reaches up to the new pendant hanging from my neck.

Shut the fuck up, the battle in my head starts. I do. For everything that he's done. I do. I hate this Derek. 

Then why are you still sitting there? Why did you feel it last night, the -

I silence the thinking by pushing up from my chair. It's wrong. Whatever that feeling was, I will fight it. Because like my head, it was wrong. It has to be!

I'm about to - I don't know what I was going to do, I just wanted to do the opposite what Derek had told me to do, because fuck him, when the same chime from a moment ago echoed through the room again. It was quickly followed by what sounded like heels walking across the marble. 

The sound of a familiar female voice spoke, as the sound of the heels came closer.

"I'm telling you, he forgot again."

A chuckle came after that. 

"I messaged him this morning, babe. So I'd be surprised if he does forget."

"Oh, please. He always forgets. I'm swear he'd forget his -" 

The familiar voice stops as she rounds the corner. Her strawberry-blonde hair was pulled up in a messy bun. She was wearing a pair of a dark jeans, a plain coloured shirt, with a grey cardigan over the top. Before I could process that she was standing in front of me, she was dashing towards me.

"Oh my God, Stiles?" She all but screams; her arms wrap around my shoulders. "Is that really you? Oh my God, five years, Stiles. Where've you been?" she lean leans back and looks at me, her smile was beaming. "What are -" she starts to ask when he eyes fall to my neck. To the mark that Derek had sucked on my neck this morning. Her beaming smile then turns into a combined beaming/suggestive grin. 

"Yes, it's really me, Lyds." I say with a small laugh. She'd never been the best of friends. She'd let Derek get in between our friendship, but I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about her or Allison after the past five years.

"Oh wow. Hey, Stiles." I look up over Lydia's shoulder to see Jordan standing there with his brows raised, with his arms holding a little boy with strawberry-blonde hair close to him. 

I turn back to Lydia, a genuine smile - first one in awhile, spread across my face. She must have already guess what I was reacting to because she smiled back up at me and spoke: "Yeah. Not long after you, uh, left. I had little Grey." 

I am about congratulate them both when I see Derek coming into the room, the dark look still remaining on his face. The man who'd followed him into the office slipped past both Derek and Jordan. 

"What are you two doing here?" Derek spoke.

Lydia gives out a soft giggle. Turning her head to face Jordan. "I told you he'd forget, didn't I?" Lydia says walking off from where she was standing, towards Jordan. She takes the little boy from Jordan, who smiled up at her. "Good morning to you too, Derek. So . . . Stiles is here..."

Derek didn't respond to her, but instead focused his attention on Jordan. "Forget? . . . we had plans?"

"Yeah, man. We were going to early lunch, and teach Grey how to-" He stops mid sentence, and glances at Lydia.

"You were going to teach him what?" Lydia demanded.

I then heard a sound I never thought I'd hear. I heard a chuckle come from Derek. 

I was surprised, Hell, I was shocked. Yeah, Derek and Jordan were friends in High School but the way he spoke . . . seeing them now, being close. I didn't think Derek was capable of it. 

It annoyed me. It annoyed me that they were close. But I don't know why, I hate him. I hate him, I yell at myself.

Lydia mustn't have gotten an answer while the battle in my head started to rage war again, because she asked Derek: "So, Derek, Stiles is here . . ."

"Thank you, Lydia. I'm well aware of that. But yes," he turns his head to look at me, the dark look was still, pinning me down, "we're together, again."

Lydia let's out a noise that sounds like excitement, while Derek and I stare at each other, his dark look collides with the frown I was giving his way. 

For the few hours that Jordan and Lydia were here Derek had stayed close to me, to answer the questions Lydia asked me; where I'd been all this time. Why I left. How long me and Derek have been back together. 

Lydia - Lydia Parrish now - had told me that before Grey was born she'd gotten married to Jordan and was now taking online college lessons; that Jordan now works for the L.A.P.D. She'd given me Grey to hold. Me and him had gotten into a long conversations about dinosaurs. During that time I notice that Derek and gotten closer to me, that there was barely an inch between us on the lounge; his warmth radiated from him, onto me. 

As they were leaving, I handed over Grey over to Jordan, which sucked. Me and the little guy were fast becoming good friends. We both liked velociraptors. 

Lydia had made me promise to call her, that she'd be back for a visit with Grey soon. Derek and Jordan had given each other a back pat, making plans to catch up soon. 

I follow them, with Derek at my side, to a part of this place I haven't been to yet. The entrance. I see now that there's no front door. There's only the silver doors of an elevator. They smile and wave once more, before the silver doors slide shut.

Imminently Derek jerks his head towards me, his dark look intensifies; his breathing comes out hard and ragged. I take a step back, but he's fast one. He reaches out his hand, and takes ahold of me with a hard grip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I uploaded a new story. It's very different from my regular stories. It's not dark, which is strange for me I know ahaha. But if you guys could give it some love that would be amazing! :') or not, that's okay :) But once again thank you so much for your support for these stories :) <3


	18. Chapter EIGHTEEN

\- DEREK POV - 

 

 

There is nothing worse than being in love with someone you hate. I've known that for awhile. I never could admit it. Because doing so I would loose my control, I would loose my power. He had it. He had the power, and just like five years ago, I have to make sure he doesn't learn of this. He had told me he loved me before. But he left me. When I needed him, when I was going to change for him, he left. And I hate him for that. He was mine, he was everything, and he left.

The beginning of the life we should have had five years ago started this morning. I had awoken to his warm body pressed against mine, and my cock had reacted to him instantly. I had prepped him, and entered him. Feeling his perfect tightness; home. 

It'd been perfect, until he had woke and said that I wasn't his. I had almost let it slip; told him something that could ruin everything, something that would give him the power. So I had to show him that he was wrong. That he was mine. 

Seeing him in my bed, in my home, sitting at my table, watching his perfect face as the light shinned in through the window . . . it was perfect. It was our destined life. It was the perfect dream. 

When I was ready - when he was ready, I had set up a room for him so he could draw. It was the room off from my office. But until he was ready, he could not enter my office. 

The morning had started out great. That is until Boyd had walked in. 

Though I only had wanted one person in my life five years ago, I had let people in. Jordan and Lydia being the closet. It had surprised me how much I did enjoy their company, along with Grey. Being around him, had made me want things I had never wanted. I wanted Stiles; I wanted him to share my name. For him to become Stiles Hale. But being around little Grey . . . 

Another surprise, I had let Cora in. Like our Father and our asshole Uncle, we had combined part of our inheritance, and invested in a handful of companies, brought several high end restaurants and clubs. We had climbed our way to top. Owning many, many successful businesses. We were very wealthy. 

The people who I had left out of my life were easily forgotten. Including my Mother. Fuck knows where she is. She'd ran off with my asshole Uncle not long after Cora got her inheritance. She would call Cora every few months. She'd tried to get in contact with me a few times, but I had Boyd take care of it.

Others were just forgotten in the years. Jackson and Allison being ones that were forgotten. Not that Jackson has been that much of a friend, only someone that hanged around me. 

I had hired Boyd to deal with that kind of shit. Handle who contacts me and who doesn't. For protection. And to handle person affairs. Soon after Stiles had ran away from me, I had hired the best I could find to find where he ran to. But, impressively, my Stiles had hidden from them. That was until I had hired Boyd almost one year ago; and had found a strong location on where he was. 

Thanks to Boyd, after five fucking years, my Stiles had returned back to me.

The morning had been going great. I felt the void I'd had since he ran beginning to fill, until Boyd whispered into my ear.

Anger. Burning fiery anger filled me. I knew Stiles had seen it. 

I had growled at him to stay where he was. My anger was mostly caused by him. This was his fault. He left. Causing this. 

Boyd had followed through the living space, into the hallway, and into my office. Closing and locking the doors behind me. I couldn't let him see my office. Walking in it looked like a regular office. A large dark wood desk sat at the end of the room, with two chairs angled in front of it. With a lounge that sat on one side of the room, facing the wall that was filled with bookcases; where the door to Stiles' drawing room sat. But what it so Stiles could not see this room was what sat on my desk, and what was painted on the wall.

The plush Spyro sat on the desk. It has sat there for years; since I had moved here. And the wall had been painted. A thick tree was in the middle of the wall, with long stretching branches, touching the frames of the two pictures I had hanged up. Two of Stiles' drawings of us that I taken many years ago. No matter the hate I felt for him for leaving, I could never let him go. Never let go of the love I felt. Never let go that he is mine.

But the only thing I had been feeling was anger. 

The frat looking douche bag, that thought Stiles was his, had apparently been searching for him. He had reporting him as a missing person, and had put up missing person posters. 

Dash Reyes . . . stupid fucking name. My option to take care of him was shot down by Boyd moments after I had voiced it. After some talk I had came up with what to do, all the while anger filled me to the brim. If he had just fucking stayed! 

The voices of both Jordan and Lydia were suddenly heard through the door. I walked out, to ask why they were here. I had apparently forgotten that they were visiting this morning. I had kept close to Stiles, answering Lydia's constant questions on where he was and why he left. 

Lydia had given Grey to Stiles to hold. Seeing that had brought back the desires I never thought I'd want. To continue on my name, with my Stiles.

I'd made plans with Jordan to meet soon. He would never be my best friend, that title had already been taken. But I had let him in, and he had become a close friend. One that I trust. 

Once the silver doors to the elevator slid shut, I was on Stiles. Taking ahold of him in a tight grip.

I start to dragging him, into the living space. "What are you doing, let me go!" Stiles tried to pull his arm out of my hold; I jerk him around and push him to sit down on the lounge. He'd grown somewhat of a backbone. Arguing and denying that he was mine. 

I reach into my pocket, and pull out my slick phone, handing it over to him. "Do you know Dash's number from memory?"

Stiles looks up at me, a look of confusion was winning out over the deep frown. It took a few moments before he slowly nodded his head.

"Good," my voice growled; fucked off that he'd be talking to him again, "call him. And break him. Tell him you ran away from him."

His mouth gapes open, and he looks at me. He starts to shake his head. "Wha - why . . . no-"

I take ahold of his chin in a tight grip, pressing my thumb down on his perfect skin. "Yes, you will, Stiles. Or I will have him taken care of. And it won't be quick or simple. It will be slow and painful. For every touch he'd placed on you, for each minute he spent with you, will be a second more of pain I'll inflict on him. Call him. Break him."

His shocked expression is there for a few moments before the deep frown was back. For a whole minute he stared up at me, with hatred filling his eyes. Which filled my hatred. Can't he just fucking accept that he's mine!? 

His eyes leave mine, and fall down to the screen.

 

 

\- STILES POV -

 

 

"Hello?"

Dash's voice comes through the speaker. I close my eyes, and hunch forward. "Hey, Dash." My voice comes out quiet.

"Mark? Are you okay? Where are you?" He asks; his voice coming out rushed. 

"I'm fine."

"What happened? Where are you? You scared the shit out of us."

Derek stands close; that if I leant more forward my head would rest on his thighs. I look up at him, into his eyes. I hope he can see it. I hate him. No matter the warmth I feel around him. No matter what else I may feel being around him, near him, thinking about him. I hate him. I hope my eyes can show it.

I think about Dash; his sandy blonde hair, his bright blue eyes that were always filled with happiness. The polo shirts he wore that were always a size too small. The light brown cargo shorts. The way he'd always managed to make me smile, the way he never intentionally hurt me. And I was meant to hurt him.

I know Derek would do what he said. Images of someone who hadn't crossed my mind in years. Derek had beaten the crap out of Scott in that bathroom years ago. How was I supposed to do this? 

Derek told me to break him, that I ran away from him. I draw in a breath, that had a slight shake in it. 

"I left." 

Silence was met after my words. I couldn't finish my words; it was all that came out. 

The sudden voice of Erica came from his side; in the background. I exhale, feeling like crap for what I'm doing. Erica had been a real friend. Better than what I was used to. Sure, it seemed like Lydia has changed. It was like how it was in the beginning; she wasn't afraid to be my friend now. But Erica, she didn't care what anyone said. She was a real friend.

"You left? What - what does that mean? Where are you? We've been looking for you." Dash asked, sounding confused. He would be running his hand through his hair by now. Something I noticed he did when he was stressed out. Massaging his shoulders would always calm him down. It wasn't too much contact, so I found it okay to do.

I clench my eyes lids. If I'm going to do this I need to do it in one go. 

Taking another exhale. 

"I never felt the same as you did, Dash. I needed a distraction, and you were that distraction, Dash. It was nothing than that. Why do you think I never wanted to sleep with you? Because I wanted to take my time? Yeah, what an excuse that was. I don't need that distraction anymore. So, just stop, Dash. Stop trying to look for me, because I don't want you to. Bye, Dash."

I end the call, gripping the slim phone in my hand. I can't believe I had done that. I can't - I don't want to imagine what he must be feeling, what he must be thinking. What Erica must be thinking . . . they'll think I have hated them all along. They'll hate me. I hate me.

I stare up at Derek, seeing that his eyes have darkened. 

He comes forward even closer, and his hand reaches down and grabs his phone from my hand. 

He doesn't move, but he keeps moving forward. Until I have to lean back against the lounge, staring up at him. 

His legs press against the inside of my inner thighs; pushing them wider. My fists clench against the leather of the lounge, I brace myself for whatever is about to happen.

"You never let him fuck you." He says in a deep voice, more of a statement than a question. 

I hesitantly shake my head. 

He throws his phone to his side. It bounces off the leather lounge and onto the marbled floor with a bang. It would have shattered the screen, but it doesn't seem to bother Derek. Both of his hands grab ahold of the sides of my face. Mine raising up and gripping his wrists.

It must've been instinct. Incase he wanted to harm me, my hands could hold him from doing so . . . 

His face leans in close, until our noses are barely touching. The warmth from his breath blew across my face as he spoke. "You've remained mine all this time. You say that you're not mine, but you are." His lips land on mine, pressing a hard kiss against my lips. My hands rise up to his elbows, and grip tight. Trying to push away, but not at my strength. His teeth nip and bite down on my bottom lip, before his face rise up to look down at me. "Forever, mine."

 

 

\- DEREK POV - 

 

 

"Yeah?" I swipe across my phone, answering my phone.

"So, you and Stiles again, huh?" Jordan's voice came through. I could hear the smile in his voice.

I stare over at where Stiles was; sitting on the lounge, holding a pillow tight to his chest, while he watched the TV that hanged from the wall. 

"Yes." I answer Jordan. 

"That's good, man. I mean, after the Hell you gave him through school, then finally getting with him. Then the five years . . . it's about time, man. Really, Are you -"

"Is there a point to this call, Parrish?" 

I hear him chuckle. The intimidation I used to have over him, over both him and Lydia, had vanished the day I let them in. I didn't scare, nor did I control them. Which didn't sit well with me. I needed power over people. I couldn't them have it over me. Because then they'd use it. Then they'd leave me. 

"Well, my point is, are you going to tell him this time?" 

"I don't know what you're talking about." I immanently ask. Ready to deny whatever he thought. 

"Come on, man. I've seen your office. You love him. I know that, Lyds knows that. But for some reason you hide it, just like when we were kids. Tell him, Derek." 

I feel my brow frown; I rub my hand across my mouth, feeling the rough stubble scratch across my palm. Jordan didn't understand. No one did. He wasn't wrong, but he wasn't right. I do, but I hate him too. I want to wrap my hands around his neck and choke him for leaving me, but I also want to kiss every inch of said neck. 

"I'm hanging up now." I say. My phone was barely an inch away from my ear before Jordan's voice spoke up.

"No no no, wait. I did call for a reason. Lyds wanted me to ask if you and Stiles wanted to come for dinner Friday night." 

I let a sigh. Already knowing what the outcome of this will be. Being invited for dinner at Jordan's wasn't an unusual event. And if my response had been "no" . . . well, somewhere along the way, Lydia had managed to be one calling the shots. I'd have to go, every time. "I don't have a choice, do I?"

"What do you think?" Jordan laughs. 

Letting out another sigh. "See you Friday night, then . . ."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	19. Chapter NINETEEN

\- STILES POV - 

 

 

Derek steps forward, with me following at his side, as the elevator doors slide open. As it began to ascend, I leaned back against the wall and looked at the man standing across from me. 

This, going to Lydia and Jordan's, wasn't the first time this week I'd left Derek's penthouse. The day after Lydia and Jordan's visit Derek had taken me to buy clothes. It was the first time I could really see where I was. 

I was so far out of my element. The five years I spent trying to escape Derek I had kept to small towns; Odessa being the largest of them all. Where I was now, hundreds and hundreds of people walked the streets daily. Dressed in expensive clothing, driving expensive cars, and holding-speaking into expensive phones.

Derek had kept me close to him at all times. I could've escaped. I could've shoved away from him and disappeared into the large crowd. I had no one left he could hurt. Dad was gone. So was Dash and Erica, thanks to him. From what I had seen he wouldn't hurt Lydia. There was no one left who would care if I was gone. Though I thought about it, I had stayed; I didn't try to escape.

The clothes he had brought me; shirts that were brand name; fitted perfect with soft fabric. Jeans and pants the same. He even brought me new shoes. All costing a ridiculous amount of money. My long hair had been cut; back to the short and spiked. Which had also costed a ridiculous amount of money . . . ranging the one hundred dollar mark... for a fifteen minute haircut.

The next day he had taken me out for dinner. At night I slept in his bed. He would take me to bed and he would have sex with me, the same in the mornings; I would wake to either fine him already inside of me or prepping me for him. 

Yesterday he had left early in the morning before I had woken, the first morning he hadn't fucked me, and had come back during the early evening. Though I had given him death glares and told him to leave me alone, Boyd had watched over me all day. 

When Derek had came back, he was dressed in a three piece business suit. He'd ordered Boyd to leave, and had jumped me on the lounge I was sitting on.

That was what life had been since Derek took me away from my life in Odessa. My hours were filled with Derek in the cold lifeless penthouse. There were moments were we would talk. It had started with Derek asking and starting the conversation with me answering in small answers. But now. We talked. Nothing like before because there's no returning to that. But he told me about about his five years; what he and Cora had done with their money.

I was torn. There was a large part of me that hated him - hated what this Derek had done; knowing that my Derek was long, long gone. But there's that small part of me that . . . that felt like it wanted this - to be with him. But I use my hatred for him to cloud that part; to bury it deep. 

Looking at him now, I was yet again battling the torn feelings inside of me. He was dressed in a black sports jacket with a blue V neck underneath, with expensive looking jeans. The small part that wanted him saw what was in front of me. An incredibly hot man. That wanted to feel the pleasure of him fucking me. But the large part yelled that I hated him. That he had ruined my life. 

I had dressed simple. A long sleeved black V neck that fitted perfectly; sleeves rolled up to my elbows. The pendant Derek had given me hanged from my neck, over the shirt. With the same looking jeans as Derek's. When the elevator doors slid open, I walked out with Derek, and down the hallway. 

We stop in front of a white door with golden numbers on the front. As Derek raises his hand, to knock on the door, I subconsciously raise my own hand and start to finger the pendant handing my neck, and lightly biting down on my bottom lip - a habit I had unintentionally picked up.

The knock never came. We only stood there for a few moments. Still with my bottom lip between my teeth, I look at him, wondering why we're just standing here. 

Looking up I see that he's staring right at me. His eyes bouncing between the pendent between my fingers and the lip between my teeth. 

Before I could get a single word out - or a questioning look, Derek crushed his body against mine; my back pressed up against the wall. His mouth slammed onto mine, taken in a brutal kiss. His tongue slid inside my mouth, Derek's large hands kneaded my pecs through the shirt. I could feel his already hard cock as he pushed and gridded his body against mine, causing the same reaction in me. 

The small part of me that wanted this reacted to this. I grabbed ahold of the lapels of his sports jacket, and pulled him in. Pushing my body against his. I felt as my cock reacted to this, hardening against him. 

Derek's hands raise from kneading my chest to my hair, and grips tight. His lips leave mine, and rests his head against mine and let a sigh, "Fuck, what you do to be, Stiles . . . don't bite your lip again. Because I don't think I'd be able to control myself a second time." The hands that were in my hair leave, and rest beside my head, caging me in.

I don't know why I did it, I could barely think at that moment. The side that wanted this was winning over the side that hated him. I bring my bottom lip up, and bite down. 

A ragged breath escapes through his mouth, the warmth of it blowing across my face. I see as his entire body tenses and his green eyes take on an even darker shade than they already were. Why had I done that? Why was I letting this side - the side that wants this, that feels a warmth from him, win? 

His mouth is within inches of mine when I'm saved by a voice.

"Jesus, will you two get inside. We can hear you guys from inside. God knows what our neighbours are thinking." I turn my head to my right to see Lydia leant against the open door. With her arms crossed, with an amused smirk on her face . . . great.

I start forward, pushing Derek's large arm out of the way. Surprised that he removed it right away. And walked towards Lydia, offering her an embarrassed smile. She gestures for me to walk in; as I do I feel the warmth from Derek's body close in behind me. 

"When we get home, I'm going to make it so you won't be able to walk tomorrow." Derek whispers down into my ear, while we walk down the hallway and into the living room. I keep my eyes on Derek as he passes me and walks over towards Jordan, who had been lounging on the chair with a beer in hand.

I see that Grey is sitting on the floor by the lounge, playing with a bunch of toy dinosaurs. I make a start towards the lounge, to sit near Grey, but again Lydia's voice calls out. "Stiles, can you come help with dinner please?" 

I make my way into the kitchen, which sat off from the living room an entrance hallway. 

The immediate smell of roast chicken hits me. It smelt amazing. The Lydia I knew back then didn't know how to not burn toast, let alone cook something that smelt like amazing. But I guess, like me, people change . . . Yeah, you changed alright, Stiles. Look where you are, back with Derek. Back to being Derek's. What a great change.

Lydia rests her hip against the counter next to the oven, again with her hands crossed. She looked nice tonight. She had straightened her; the long strawberry blonde lines rested past her shoulder. 

"I need you to answer me honestly here, Stiles," Lydia leaned in closer to me, keeping her voice lowered so it couldn't be heard over Jordan's voice and the TV. "I need to know. Is this like how it was five years ago, or are you back here with Derek willingly?"

 

 

\- DEREK POV -

 

 

I watch as Stiles walks off into the kitchen; away from me to talk to Lydia. 

Lydia's not stupid. She would question whether or not Stiles being mine was like before or if it was different. She's smart enough to know that she can't take him from me but she also knows that I'd never hurt her. One of the down sides of letting her, Jordan, Grey, and Cora in was that they meant something to me. Nothing like what Stiles meant to me, but they were there. But Lydia was also smart enough to know how much I wanted - needed Stiles.

Both Jordan and Lydia had never let it up; before their wedding and years after Grey was born, they would tell me to find him. To tell him how I feel. That I love him. I would deny it all. He couldn't know. Because if he did then he could destroy me with it. He'd have all the power.

"Derek," Jordan's voice pulls me away from watching the entrance to the kitchen. I turn my head to face him. I watch as he moves forward and places his beer on the coffee table. "Need to talk with you." 

I follow him as he gets up from the chair and walks out of the living room. Ruffling Grey's strawberry-blonde hair on the way. I follow him as we pass the entrance to the kitchen, looking in to see that Lydia is leaning towards Stiles; talking in quiet tones. And then they're gone as I follow Jordan into the hallway and into his study.

I want to know what they're talking about. No - I need to know. If they were speaking in quiet tones then Lydia must be asking him. Asking him if this time it's any different. It's then that I start to feel something I hated. Something I hadn't felt in a long, long time. 

Worry. 

It was different! Before I needed to punish him. I needed Stiles to feel the same pain he inflicted on me. I had let it take control; forcing me to finally claim him that night I saw him looking out his window and into mine.

Back then it had been my need to control him - to dominate him - to claim him that drove me. I hated him. I hated him so much for kissing another, and then letting it happen again. He needed to know he was mine. Everyone needed to know he was mine. 

I didn't let myself feel it again, to let it all back in, until he told me he didn't want me - when I had awoken in the hospital during the storm. But he'd left. He'd left me. Once again destroying me. But it was too late. I had already let it all back in. Feeling it all.

But it was different now. I have it all. I can give him anything he wants, anything he would ask for. I would give it to him. It was different. Money was not an issue. I could give him the world. Why can't he just fucking accept that he's mine? That's all I want; for him to be mine. To want me. To . . . need me. 

Jordan closes the door behind us; taking the seat behind his desk, while I take the one in front. 

"What did you want to talk about?" I ask Jordan.

He lets out a sigh and leaned back in his chair. "You and Stiles." 

A deep frown instantly takes ahold of my features. I don't need to hear this; hearing him say how I need to tell him. "No." I say slat out, and stand up from the chair. 

I start moving toward the closed door when Jordan lets out a low groan before his voice comes again, risen. "Derek, you need to grow up." 

I jerk my head back around to face him. Locking my eyes with his; letting him see my anger. I'm about to open my mouth to speak, when Jordan interrupts me. "You need to grow the fuck up and tell him, Derek. Just fucking tell him that you love him and stop the games."

"I don't love him." I instantly deny it. It was all I could say. Jordan, like Lydia, had told me to tell Stiles many times. But he'd never spoken to me like this. Not once since we'd known each other. I didn't like it. Not one bit.

"Yes, you do," Jordan stands up from his chair and walks around his desk. I deepen my frown. He doesn't fucking understand. He doesn't want to hate the person he loves. He isn't afraid that the person he loves will use it against him. He just didn't fucking understand. So I tell him that fact. 

"You don't understand-"

"Derek, just stop." He all but yells. "Stop with the games and just tell him. I like the guy. I have since High School; he seemed like a nice guy. And he didn't deserve the shit you did to him because you could never tell him how you felt." He walks forward, and continues with his normal tone voice. "You need to tell him, Derek. Or you will loose him. Again."

 

 

We had left his study not too soon after that. With the dinner happening fifteen minutes later. 

It still amazed me that Lydia could cook this well. I had sat next to Stiles, of course. With Jordan in front of me, and Lydia in front of Stiles. Having Stiles close, and with the amazing food would have made for a good dinner. But both Jordan and Lydia had been given me looks of disproval. How did this happen? When did it become that they were the ones giving the looks of disapproval?

After dinner we had sat in the living room just casually talking; Lydia to Stiles more so. She'd given Grey to Stiles, so that now Grey was seated in Stiles' lap. With a large smile beaming from Stiles' face.

Seeing this, it sparked shit I never thought I'd want. I wanted it all with him. I just fucking want him forever. For him to be mine; to share my name; to continue my name on with him - not even my name, just to have what Jordan and Lydia have with him. But my hate for Stiles was still there. Growing stronger every time he denied that he was mine. 

'Or you will loose him. Again.' Jordan's words had played on repeat ever since he had spoken them. There was no fucking way I was going to loose him. Not ever again. I'll sooner lock him away than ever have to watch him walk away again. 

Before dinner - before we walked out of the study. I had showed something I never wanted to show. I showed weakness. I had asked Jordan what do I do. What the fuck was happening to me . . . 

Jordan's response was what he had already said: to tell Stiles that I love him. I couldn't. I can't do it again. I can't watch him leave. But what if Jordan's right? What if by not telling him - I fucking hate this. I have never once questioned myself like this. 

I fucking love him. I do. But I hate that he left me. I fucking hate that he let another come near him - kiss him. I fucking hate that he ran from me, that he let some other fucking douche bag touch him for months. I absolutely fucking hate that he let all of this happened. Though I had said I hated him, I had lied. I wanted to. I wanted to hate him. But I couldn't. I never could. Which pissed me the fuck off. 

We had stayed there for a few hours before we started to leave. 

Stiles had said his byes to Jordan, Lydia, and Grey, as did I. We were walking towards the door when I told him that I wanted to speak with Jordan and Lydia, that I'd meet him at the elevator. He'd given me a questioning look, but had walked out, giving another round of goodbyes. 

Stiles taking the elevator down and running had crossed my mind; hearing another door shut after he had shut the door after him. It had scared the fuck out of me - another fucking feeling I didn't like. I was fucking breaking. But he knew by now, he had to know, that if he ran I would chase until I caught. 

I clench my eyes shut and turn to face Jordan and Lydia. "I'm going to tell him."

"Finally." They both say at once. They then go on to say that it was the right thing, that I should have years ago, that I was an idiot and if I hurt him again I'd pay - that had came from Lydia. Still fucking surprised me that she had somehow become the one with all the power. And was half the time frightening when she used it. 

I say another round of goodbyes like Stiles had done, and started towards the door. I was going to tell him. Jordan better fucking be right. That if I told him, that I told him that I love him, that I've always loved him. That I needed him. He would stay. How I would tell him, I have no fucking idea. But I needed him. He was mine. Mine alone. 

I walk out the door, closing it, I turn my body towards the elevator where Stiles should be waiting. But I come to a dead halt when I see Stiles, a smile spread across his face. But that smile, the smile that should be directed my way, was cast upwards. I could not see who the guy was, only the back of his leather jacket. He was near Stiles - my fucking Stiles. Everything I had just wanted to do washes away as instant rage fills my system. I start forward. The muscles of my back tighten and straighten until I'm at full height. Ready to teach this fucker that he needs to stay the fuck away from things that don't belong to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter wasn't as good as others, but I have bad writer's block. For EVERYTHING!!! I have them all planned out - where I want them to go, but I'm just having trouble writing these chapters! And I was updating like crazy too! D: I'm sorry about the delays, but they'll be coming soon! :) :D
> 
> Also, Cora will be coming back with news >:D oh and Derek was starting to break. He will fully break next chapter when the fight that's been brewing since Chapter ONE happens ;)
> 
> I'm also contemplating whether or not I should do a spin off of this story. It would be connected to this story in a big way. Derek and Stiles would still have POV's but they'd be new POV's introduced. It wouldn't be as dark as this... I don't know. Just thinking about it :P


	20. Chapter TWENTY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't get this chapter going. Everything I wrote I spammed the backspace button. Also it didn't turn out how I had planned it. Ugh. Hope it's decent for you guys :)

\- STILES POV - 

 

 

I could continue on saying that my head was a battleground; one side that wanted it, wanted Derek, fighting the other side that hated him. Go on saying that I was confused. That I was angry. That I had no idea what to feel . . . but fuck it. I just can't anymore. 

I didn't know who the guy was. He'd walked out through the door down the hall just as I had walked out through Lydia's. Any other time I wouldn't have struck up a conversation with a stranger. 

But the shirt that he'd been wearing under his leather jacket; an Avengers shirt. For five years, hiding, I'd still found a way to watch the newest Marvel movies. Seeing his Avengers: Infinity War part II shirt, it had pulled a smile on my lips. I had told him that he had an awesome shirt.

He'd pressed the button to go down and a conversation about the movies and who our favourite superhero is had formed. 

I didn't even know his name, we didn't share them, it had only been an innocent geek out over which superhero was the best. 

Three things happened at once.

The guy had made an argument why his choice was the best, causing a laughing smile to stretch across my face; the noise from both the ding and the elevator doors sliding open came from behind me; and I saw, coming directly at me, a pair of dark angered eyes.

It all happened so fast, before I could even question why he was pissed off. 

The palm of his hand pushed against my chest, pushing me back into the now open elevator. He didn't stop pushing me back until my back came in contact with the wall of the elevator.

The guy I had been speaking to wore an expression of shock; a light frown painted on his face. 

He inches forward, about to take a step into the elevator but comes to a halt when Derek's large arm comes up to grab the side of the elevator door, blocking his way. 

"Fuck off." Derek grows at the guy in a deep voice. 

Derek lets go of the door, letting the doors slide shut; closing and locking us in a small space. Derek doesn't a say thing, he only stands where he was - ahead of me, in front of of the doors. 

I watch the back of his head, the usual bullshit I was pissed off at was running through my head. What happened; why was he angry; why did I care? I'm so sick of this - I can't fucking do it anymore. 

"What's your problem-" I start to say; the annoyance in my tone.

"Shut the fuck up, Stiles." Derek bellows; the muscles of his back tensed underneath his sport jacket. His gaze was still focused on the doors in front. 

When the doors slid open to the underground car park, he immediately walked out, heading in the direction of his car. 

The conversation stays the same on the ride back; silent. My eyes had kept their gaze on him; his hands, that gripped the steering wheel right. He didn't once look my way. Not when he was driving, not when we stopped at the lights. Not even when we arrived back, and had parked. He'd pulled the keys from the ignition and got out. 

The silence had dragged on and continued as we stepped into the elevator and rode up to the top. It wasn't until the doors slid opened, opening the view of the black marbled hallway with the light shinning in through the glass wall, when the silence broke.

A large hand gripped the back of my neck, and pulled me into the hallway. Up the steps and into the living space. "Who the fuck was that guy?" His voice yelled loud, echoing through the room. Derek's grip suddenly turned into a shove and I was pushed forward, coming to a stop next to the dinning table. "Who was it, Stiles?" He yells again, coming out more as a shake than a roar. 

"No one." My frown sets in heavy.

"Bullshit!" 

The shaky yell comes again. His fists clench; his arms tense and hand still at his sides. "You're trying to do it again, aren't you?" Derek takes a small step forward, "Do not try and deny it. You're going to run again; with whoever the fuck you were talking to. I won't let it happen again, Stiles. You are mine!"

My head starts to unconsciously shaking. 

I can't do this anymore. The side that wanted this - wanted him - was crushed and pushed away. The side that hated this - hated him dominated my mind. I can't do this. I can't deal with this; my former best friend continuing to torment me. 

The conversation I had with Lydia came to me; what she said; what I had guessed at. At the time I didn't think it could be what I thought . . . Lydia hadn't said it, but the words she had used. I had the power over this. That I've been the one to either break or make him. Which makes no sense. Why would I have that over Derek?

"I don't - I can't do this anymore." It escapes through my lips, as my shaking head came to a stop.

As my eyes raise up to look at him I see as his expression changes. From anger to something I haven't seen on him in over five years. Not since the day of the storm. The day the tree that connected both our rooms; our lives, together fell, with Derek on it. 

The features on his face; pain was splashed across his face. His mouth gapes open slightly. But this expression of pain only lasts seconds before the angered expression is back.

Like mine had been, his head begins to shake. His eyes once again darken and stare directly into mine. "You-" His roaring voice breaks; he lets out a growl and continues. "You're mine!" 

Funny how history repeats itself. Just like that day years ago here I stood, facing my best friend turned tormentor; a broken look had passed through him, and I stood there. Feeling everything explode. Like before, the eruption was happening. For a second time. 

My hand reaches up and grabs ahold of the silver pendant that hanged from my neck, with the engraving "MINE" on the face of it. With full strength I pull at the pendant, the chain of it pressed against the back of my neck. Until the hold came apart, the pendant now rested in my hand. I curl the chain and circle in my hand and throw it at Derek.

Derek's head quickly moves head out of the way. The silver pendant flew past his face, and had clattered against something in the kitchen behind him. 

"I can't do this, Derek." The second eruption comes, my voice choking on anger, "I'm not yours; I'm not something you can just take and control." I don't want to look at his face, I turn my gaze towards the elevator, knowing it won't happen, but I start forward. "I'm leaving."

Derek's hand reaches out, and grabs ahold of my bicep in a tight grip. I immediately start to pull away from his hold on me. "You're not leaving - you can't leave." He growls.

"Let go of me. Now. I'm leaving, Derek."

"No you're not! You got nowhere to go-"

"I don't fucking care. I'm leaving-"

"No you are not!" He screams. "No-"

I then stop trying to push forward and turn on him. The sudden movement pulled my arm from his grip. I don't think he saw what was coming - I didn't even know what I was doing. But the anger - sadness - want exploding inside of me. I shoved hard against his chest, pushing him back a few steps. And once when my mouth opened, I couldn't stop. 

He stumbles back a few steps, a mixed look between anger - shock - and something else was painted across his face. 

"I know, Derek. I figured it out. Your precious power; the power you held over me to keep me... I've always had it. Lydia had asked me earlier tonight if I was here against my will. You know what I replied with? I said I was here on my own free will. Believe me, it surprised me. But you know what surprised me more? Lydia then said that I was your weakness. 

I didn't understand it fully, but I kept thinking about it. And it hit. The power - the hold you had over me. It was never there. I don't know why you did this - why you thought you had to ruin me, ruin our friendship - a friendship I worshipped. All to have power over me. I lied when I said I hated you. Believe me, I want to. There's so much in me that wants to. But deep down, I know I can't. I can't hate my best friend, no matter what he turned into."

Fuck, I can't help that my eyes start to pool at the edges. 

"I'm leaving. And you're going to have to accept that you did this. You ruined it. Derek, for fucks sake, I loved you. And you destroyed it, me, everything all for power." 

By now the pooling at the edges of my eyes broke, causing a slow stream to run down my side. "I'm leaving."

I should have kept going. I should have turned away, not caring, and walked into the elevator; to finally escape. 

But as I began to turn, Derek fell. 

Derek fell to his knees, with his head hung low; his arm hanging motionless at his sides. I should turn around, I should forget him. But look down at Derek; on his knees, motionless, his mouth gapping slightly - his eyes looking distant, staring down at the floor. Instead of walking backwards, towards the elevator, I step toward him. 

I frown, looking down at him; my eyes still blotched by water. "Derek?" I ask, keeping my voice low - why, I don't know.

There's another moment of silence before a voice comes from him. A voice that wasn't his. Far from anything I've ever heard from him. 

"Please don't leave me." The sound of heavy breathing comes from him. "Please don't. Not again." His head starts to shake from side to side, his eyes still cast downwards. "I can't. I can't do it again; can't lose you. Not again." . . . 

After years of torment, of him having the power of me - holding me and taking me against my will. Three years running, and two building a new life. Years and years of me looking over my shoulder, scared of my best friend. I'd finally 'won'. Derek broke. To see the person who tormented you for years, who took you against your will, who ripped you away from your new life, I should feel happy; happy that he was feeling pain like mine. But . . . I didn't feel happy. Nowhere close to any feeling of happiness. 

"I'm nothing." Derek's shaking - heavy breathing voice continues. "I'm nothing without you in my life. I need you - I need you to want me."

To tell you why I did it . . . I couldn't. Everything had just exploded. I was done, I was about leave. And Derek was broken. I don't know why . . . I move forwards and grab ahold of his face. Feeling the scratch of his stubble underneath my palms. I raise his head so that his eyes stare up into mine; a frown deep on my face, looking down into broken eyes. 

Again, I was again questioning Derek; me and Derek. The loss of his power over me and the thought of me using the power and leaving him broke him. He was hurting. But I wasn't feeling rejoice. Seeing him like this, I was feeling nothing but . . . nothing; a void. An empty pit of unhappiness.

I stare down at him, as he stares up at me. 

I wanted to hate him. Oh, you have no idea how much I wanted to hate him. I was angry with him, I hated what he done - what he turned into. But deep in me, I could never hate him. He hated me, but needed me. That was wrong. That was toxic. I wouldn't - couldn't be a want for him, a desire for him. To have hate filled between us. My hands still hold at his face; I'm about to pull them away, when he spoke.

"I - I . . . I love you."

The the air from lungs vanished, a weight being lifted of my chest, warmth, happiness, etc. They were what you should feel when you're told when you're loved. But this wasn't it. He didn't love me. He needed me. He hated me. I doubt he even remembered how to. Why would he use that to use against me? Why. He wants to hurt me. He's still my tormentor.

"I don't believe you," I start to remove my hands. "You hate me."

Derek's hands then shoot up and grab ahold of my wrists in the lightest hold I've ever felt from him. He then starts to slowly rise up from the ground. His light green eyes stay connected with mine as he lowers our hands. 

He doesn't say a word, he just gently tugs at me to follow him as he starts to walk towards the other end of the room. I push down at my heals, trying to stop him from taking me where ever - "Let go."

He turns back to look at me. "Please." He speaks in a soft tone. The tugging at my wrists start up again, only this time I don't fight it. 'Please' 'I love you' these weren't things I didn't hear from Derek. There was no battle in my head. The two sides that were battling one another were gone. There were only reminders left behind, reminders of the days of pain, sadness, humility, and darkness. But also the days when he would smile at me, when he would be the best thing that the day could offer, when he was my best friend. 

Derek had lead me around the corner, until he stopped in front of double wooden doors. The doors to his office - the office he'd restricted me from entering. The office he'd locked whenever he would leave this place. 

With one hand leaving my wrist, letting my hand fall to my side, he pushes open the doors and leads me inside his office. 

He doesn't stop until I'm at the front of his desk, his other hand finally lets go of my wrist, and he takes a few steps back from me. I start to turn my head, to ask why he has taken me in here. Why he had said those things - why he lied. That I couldn't be here - that I was leaving, when the purple object catches my attention. An object I have not seen in five years.

The purple Spyro plush I had given him for his birthday all those years ago. It sat on his desk. The wings that had stood upright when I had given it to him now flopped down, looking like it well-worn; like Derek had handled it many times over the past years. 

I reach over and pick it up, feeling the softness of it underneath my fingers. "I don't hate you, Stiles." Derek's voice comes in, I turn my head slightly, keeping my eyes on the Spyro in my hands. "I wanted to. So much. Because hate is easier. Hate is safer than love. I needed the power - I needed it to keep you in my life so you could never leave me. But you did . . . and I can't watch that again, Stiles. I love you. I have for so fucking long. But I kept myself safe, letting hate and power cloud it."

What I was meant to feel I felt in slow waves. He's played me before, this could be another way to control me. To torment me. For all I know this isn't the same Spyro. It could be one he brought just to play me. 

I place the Spyro back down onto the desks surface and turn to face Derek, who had been standing off to the left of me. Only to have every last bit of air leave my body. My mouth falls open, and I know my eyes must've widened. 

The left side of the wall had been painted over. A large tree trunk had been painted in the middle of the wall, with two thick branches leading left and right. I follow with my eyes to each end of the branches. At both ends were framed pictures - drawings. My drawings I had drawn well over five - eight years ago. Drawings of me and Derek together, as kids. 

I unconsciously start forward. Not realising it until I'm standing in the middle of the wall, staring at the painted truck of the tree that connected us together. I raise my right hand up and press it up against the painted wall; against the tree. He doesn't hate me. He says he loves me. But do I feel for him what I did once before? There's the warmth I feel whenever I with him, the feeling of home. But it can't just be that. Do I love Derek? Do I leave now and never look back? 

A large hand covering mine on the wall pulls me away from my questioning thoughts, the warmth flooding through me. I draw in a shaky breath, and turn my head to look up at him, at my best friend, at my tormentor, at the man who took everything from, at the man who said he loves me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a comment on a previous chapter from someone not happy with how this story planned out. Which is perfectly fine. I like criticism, good or bad. It helps me. And I know this story isn't for everyone :) but kinda SPOILER ALERT!! The unhappy ending I had planned has changed and now it's leading towards them staying with each other - working shit out. And if that's not for you, then that's fine. I just hope that those who read this story will enjoy the rest of it :) I apologise if this disappoints you :) - They'll now work through Derek's problems; help with the issues he has.
> 
> Also, after this story finishes a new one will be coming. If anyone has seen the movie Orphan . . . it'll somewhat be based on that. This time with a Dark Stiles >;)


	21. Chapter TWENTY-ONE

\- STILES POV -

 

 

"Is he still in there?" I ask him, continuing to look up at him. Up at the man who proclaims he loves me. His eyes . . . so far from the regular dark and heated eyes that he would always direct my way. These, they were broken. Desperate.

He'd said words I had wanted to hear from him for years. He didn't hate me. But . . . did I hate him? I should. I really should. 'hate was easier. Hate was safer than love' . . . He'd said so much. Too much. Everything, once again, was filling up. But I wasn't going to let it build in me; only coming out when there was an eruption. Not anymore.

My hand was still pressed up against the painted wall. Up against the large trunk. With his larger hand still covering mine; the warmth radiating from his hand to mine. My face was turned away from the wall, looking up at him. He must know what I was talking about because he doesn't hesitate with his reply.

I know my answer. But I had to ask him. Derek starts to shake his head. With slow shakes, telling me what I already knew. "No." He says.

Haring that, I start to pull my hand away from the wall. Away from his hand. But before I could pull my hand even an inch away from his, Derek quickly stops me. Grasping my hand tight in his and bringing it in close to him. So that it was metres away from his chest.

"But -" Derek briefly closes his eyes, letting out a few struggling breaths, before reopening them. "I will try. I can't lose you again. I - I can't . . . not again."

I let out a shaky breath as my brows furrow, looking up at his worried eyes. My own starting to sting. I can't - I can't do this anymore. Not with the Derek that has been my nightmare. I -

"You need help." It escapes from my mouth.

"You can't leave." Was all that Derek said, not acknowledging that I had t told him to get help.

"You need to help get or I will, Derek. I will leave," the stinging that was my eyes had now traveled down to my throat, "I will."

For a slit second Derek's worried and desperate eyes change back to harden look I was all to familiar with, before closing them shut. The hand that as on mine tightened with his returned eyes. In that moment I'm about to tell him to let go; knowing that the nightmare had returned.

But before the thought could finish in my mind, the hand loosened so that it just holding it is place. His eyes reopen, back to its storm green colour - still filled with desperation.

Words don't leave his mouth, but he stiffly nods his head.

I let out an exhale, dropping my eyes away from his. Not really knowing what I was feeling. If I had wanted him to say no, forcing me to leave him. Or I was . . . relieved.

I feel as my hand starts to raise as Derek takes my hand up to rest against his lips. There is no kiss, nothing but his lips resting against the top of my knuckles. "I love you." Derek says once more. There's something there when I hear those words come from him. But the only thing I could register was pain; the stinging in her eyes returned. I couldn't pin point why I felt pain. But I know I felt it.

"Do you love me?" Derek's voice comes again.

The question I couldn't answer. I couldn't even answer myself on whether or not I hated him. I open my mouth but only to close it, repeating the action again before words finally left my mouth.

"I don't know..."

Both of his large hands are suddenly at the sides of my face, holding me. My gaze immediately jerks to face to him. I can't remember a time when he held me like this; without any aggression, jealousy, or rage. Within minutes Derek has gone from basically dragging me home in rage to this. To something I haven't seen in over eight years.

Again, his response was same he'd been saying since coming into his office. "Don't run." Though this time his voice came out in a quiet growl.

He said he will try, he will get help, that he loves me - "I won't."

I don't fight it; try and move away or push him away. I let it happen, watch as his face comes in close. Every time Derek had kissed me it had been rough. It had been domineering. It had been filled with anger. Like he was staking claim to me. But now. This was something I've never felt from him before. It was soft yet forceful. It was like the ones I had shared with Dash, but different.

As quick as it happen it was quick to end.

Derek pulls his lips away from mine to hover above my face, looking down at me. The storm green eyes had started to darken - a look I was all too familiar with.

He says it again, the words I've wanted to hear for years. Words I don't think I could say back to him. But at this moment that didn't matter. Because at the moment I don't hold it anymore. I don't let it rest and wait for the eruption. I let it out . . . thought it had let out wasn't what I was expecting.

I jerk up at him, pressing my lips against his. My eyelids fall as I press more against him. The hands that were at the sides of face move; his right moves upwards into my hair while his left slides around and grips the back of my neck.

This was the first kiss with Derek that I had initiated. It was the first one that wasn't when Derek wanted to control me, to torment me. It was the first one that didn't cause the pain I had accustomed to with him. It was different.

Derek, once more, pulls his lips away from mine.

His breathing comes out in puffs, thought we hadn't been kissing long enough for him to be short of breath. But before I could question it even more, we had started moving backwards. Derek slowly directed me until my back was against the wall; against the trunk of the tree.

Both of his hands fall down to the end of my long sleeved V neck and starts to pull up. Just as the shirt reaches just past my stomach, Derek looks back up at me; his eyes once again worried looking. He must see what I felt because his hands continue pulling my shirt up.

Derek then drops the shirt down to the floor beside us. The warmth from his palms were suddenly felt against my torso, as he lightly grazed them from my rips, to my navel, to my pecs. Derek then pushed off his black sports jacket, pulling off his blue V neck a second later. My eyes immediately fall down to look down at his body - his heavily muscled body - for a moment, before I raise them back up. To look into the storm green eyes that I . . . love.

His lips are back on me, but not on my lips. I feel as his presses his lips against my neck, running them down to my collarbone. I can't help the light moans that escape from my mouth; the same time his speaks into my neck. I don't hear what he says, only the mumble. A mumble that I think sounds like 'sorry'.

His eyes once again meet mine as his hands meet the belt at my waist. Looking to see if I wanted this - that I wanted him. Even after all this time, after all the pain, I could still read them. Asking if he could continue. It was such a change from who he was hours ago . . . hours ago when he had the so called power. He must see it in my eyes, what I wanted, and pulled the belt from my jeans.

Not a minute later his belt joins mine on the floor, our jeans falling down with them. Until we're standing together; with me in my boxers and him in his. Derek's lips are back on mine, sucking and biting lightly at my bottom lip. "I love you." His breath is warm as he speaks against my lips. I only close my eyes and I feel my body rise when his hands grab ahold of the waistband of my boxers and pull down.

When his lips leave mine I take the moment to look down, to see that my cock had reacted to this; as it was full erect. The large tent protruding from Derek's boxers showing that he had the same reaction as I did. "Stay. Stay right there." Derek breathes out, before turning and walking about the door.

I want to question if this is what I wanted or not, but rational thought was non existent right now. The only thing that I felt - the only thing that was existent was Derek. This Derek . . . my Derek?

I had barely regained my breath before Derek returned. His boxers now gone. His hard erection now standing firm ahead of him. In his hand he now held a small bottle - lubricant. I catch it heated over eyes for one moment before he's back on me; his lips pressing hard against mine. I don't even hear the cap of the bottle when Derek opens it. I only feel as his cool fingers press up against my entrance.

My hands are now at his shoulders, grabbing on tight rather than pushing at them; trying to shove him away. It was all so different. Yet the touches and looks he was giving me felt so familiar.

Derek trails his lips from my shoulder and up to my ear lobe, sucking and nipping with his teeth. His large body rubbed up against mine as he pivots his fingers into me; his cock thrusted against mine. Moans and groans echo around the room, coming from the both of us. A slightly louder moan escapes from me when Derek removes his fingers, but it is soon solved when I felt the head of his cock push against my entrance.

"Derek." I gasp out as he pushes into me. Besides the moans and groans I'd never been vocal while we had sex. But now I couldn't stop myself.

Once I feel that he's inside me down to the root, he let's out a struggled breath. I'm suddenly pulled up from the ground, my legs wrapping around the backs of his thighs. The painted wall I was just up against, Derek now held me to it. With my legs wrapped around him, my back pressed against the painted tree trunk.

"Derek . . . move. Move." I gasp out, gripping tight at his shoulders.

I let out a moan when I feel as he starts to slowly move out, but thrusts back in with strength, and repeats his action. His mouth is back again his my neck. Sucking and biting, knowing full well that he was marking me. Both his hands move. His right takes my left and holds in above me, holding it to the tree. As his left drops down and wraps around the hardened shaft of my cock.

"Urgh! Derek . . . Derek. Harder. Please." I groan out, without helping myself.

"Anything." Derek growls against my jaw, biting down on the skin. "Anything for you."

Not a second later he starts thrusting into me with full strength. I throw my head back against the wall, feeling the intense pleasure from both his thrusting and his hand pumping at my cock. The pleasure explodes when Derek comes in closer and sucks at my exposed Adam's Apple.

It's too much then. The muscles in my back tighten, and I arch upwards. My release exploding from me. Shooting up across my stomach and chest, covering both me and Derek's hand.

A roaring groan came from Derek as he thrusts into me and stops; feeling as his climax releases inside of me, feeling the warmth. Our chests rising and falling with heavy breaths. My legs loosen and fall down from their wrapped position, but don't leave the back of his legs.

"Perfect." Derek says in my ear, kissing the space behind it. "So fucking perfect."

 

 

The next morning I'm pulled awake by Derek.

Since being brought here, Derek had awoken me nearly every morning with sex - or I'd awake midway through sex. But this morning, I awoke to feel immediate pleasure as Derek kissed his way up from my neck to my earlobe - something I had only just starting to notice; Derek and my ears. They weren't rough kisses, or possessive. They were just soft, like he was tasting me.

"'Morning."

Derek speaks from behind me, pressing in close to me, feeling the hardness of his morning wood press against me.

"'Morning."

I say back to him; he kisses me a few more times before he rests the side of his face on mine. Feeling the scratching of his stubble press against me.

There's nothing but silence for a few more minutes. Only me and Derek's combined breathing. I didn't know what to do. This was all too new for me. I'd wanted my Derek back. I'd wanted this? Derek back. I had wanted to destroy him years back, and now that I have what I wanted I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what I'm supposed to feel. Do I hate him? . . . No. Am I angry at him for everything? Yes. Do I love him? . . . I don't know.

He plants another kiss on the side of my face. Before I feel the sudden chill of his lost body; feeling the mattress dip and move. "I have to head out today; check in with the businesses and a board meeting. Will you . . . be okay?" I push up on my elbows and look over at him. I know what he's asking. He's asking whether or not I will run.

Just yesterday this had been all different. He had been the one in 'power', the one in control. Now . . . it's almost like the monster that took over Derek, the dark jealous monster that possessed my best friend, was dying. That my Derek was finally making an escape.

I nod my head before falling back down into the pillow; seeing the small smile that comes from him before I fall back. My eyes fall back shut just as the sound of the shower in the next room comes alive. I reopen my eyes a good thirty minutes later. I shower, shave, and change; pulling a dark grey Henley shirt from the wardrobe, boxers, and a pair of light sweatpants.

I walk out into the main room/living area. The morning light shinning in through the large floor to celling blinded me for a few moments, before my eyes focused on what was in front of me.

Derek sat at the glass dinning table, a plate in front of him filled with toast and bacon; a orange juice beside him. He was dressed in a fitted navy blue business suit; white shirt and matching navy tie. I have to admit, he's . . . he's amazingly good looking - Hell, he's fucking hot.

My eyes raise to him to see his darken upon at me. Before I could even make it to the table, Derek speaks.

"Did you forget what I once told you? What you in Henley's do to me?"

I frown at him across the table for a second, noticing the already served plate of toast and bacon in front of me, before the memory floods back to me. Five years ago, I had worn a Henley to school. The moment I had entered into his car he'd jumped me. Pulled down my jeans and had sucked me until completion.

Not thinking, I go to test the waters; if this was anew Derek or not. I give a small shrug, pushing the edge of my smile up. "Maybe I wore it for that reason."

The hands that had been planted on the face of the table curl and tighten at my words. What I'm expecting to see if a face of hunger, of want. Those are there, but there's something else added to it. Said something that causes the warmth I felt with him to radiate through my body. A warm feeling of home.

"I want to take you out tonight." Derek asks once he finishes his plate and glass.

"Where?" I ask through the most incredible bacon I've ever eaten before. Did Derek cook this or did he have someone do it for him? I make a note to ask him.

"A surprise." He offeres me a smile. A smile that makes the warmth explode inside of me. A smile that takes me back many many years back.

It's fucked up that it took all of this just to get where we were now. From Derek being my best friend, my life. Having the tree that connected our two lives together. To have Derek turn on me, to torment me because of a kiss. There was something wrong with him and I was serious with what I had said last night. he will get help or I will leave. To me running from my Dad's death, from Derek; from our broken connected lives - much like the tree that had been pulled up from the ground the day of the storm.

Fiver years later. Three spent running and hiding. Watching as the money I had taken from the safe depleted fast, spending it all on motels and take out. Two years setting up a new life. A new life with a good job, with good friends: Erica and . . . Dash.

I had liked him. I did. He was everything Derek wasn't. But I think that was the reason why I liked him. As horribly messed up as that sounds. But he deserves better. He deserves to know . . .

"I want to call Dash." I blurt out just as Derek and start to rise up from his chair.

I watch as his body and facial features change fast. The shoulders of his body stretch wide as his muscles tighten; his storm green eyes darken to the point of black. "You said you wouldn't run!" His voice rose with every word. "I won't let you run again. I can't. Not after last night, Stiles. No-"

"Derek! Stop." I interrupt him. "I want to call him to explain it to him. He's deserves that much!" My voice too had risen to match his. He frowns heavily at me, his body still rigid and tense. I let out a sigh before adding. "I'm not going to run."

His frown is still heavily set in place as he reaches down into his pocket and pulls out his phone. He presses a few buttons on screen before holding it up to his ear, keeping eye contact with me. "Boyd," Derek says a few seconds later after putting the phone to his ear, "Give me the number for Dash Reyes." He then pulls the phone away and places it in front of him. There's a silence that stretches on for a minute or so, with Derek refusing the break his eye contact with me. The message tone from Derek's phone breaks the silence.

Derek glances down at his phone for a second before sliding the phone across the table to me. I pick up the slick - tight phone in hand, feeling his heavy stare on me, and press the number.

There's a few intense seconds filled with the sound of the ringing tone next to my ear and the pair of dark eyes on me.

"Hello?" Dash's voice comes through.

"Hey.." It was the only thing I could think to say. It was a good enough, right?

"What do you want, Mark?" I guess not . . .

"I have something to tell you-"

"Oh no, you've already told me enough." I let out a sigh, running my hand through my hair.

"Can you just listen for a second while I-"

"No, I fucking cannot, Mark-"

"My name's not Mark!" I exclaim, wanting to say anything to just make him listen to me.

"What? What the fuck do you mean your name's not Mark?"

I let out a long sigh, looking up to see that Derek's eyes were still trained on me.

"Don't hate me-" I go on to tell him about it, about my life. Leaving some parts out, but keeping the main shit in. Why I ran, who I was running from - why I changed my name, what my real name was. That kind a shit. - I did like you," I say, seeing as Derek's body expands more; muscles tightening more, "But . . ." I let out another sigh. "I'm sorry. Please understand."

There's a long moment of silence before Dash spoke. "No, yeah. Of course I understand. Erica and I were nothing more than a distraction. A lie."

"No. No, of course not." I instantly deny. "I do care about you and Erica, I just -"

"Don't contact me again . . . Stiles." Dash spits out my name as if it was bellow him. "Don't ever contact us again."

It was the last thing he said before the phone call went dead. I slide the phone back over to Derek, who was still watching me. I can't blame Dash for hating me. He should. I never intentionally did it, but I had used him. Used him as a distraction - a way to forget Derek; as he was the opposite of him in every way. I just needed him to know. Now he does . . .

I didn't know Derek had moved to stand in front of me until he was pulling me up from the chair. I come into contact with his eyes, eyes that are now not as heavy with anger but filled with hunger. His lips slam into mine with a possessive kiss; sucking and pulling at my bottom lip. His hand comes up and fists my hair, as his other grips my hip and pulls me in. He pulls his lips away from mine and rests his head against mine. He then breaths out, but doesn't say a thing. Only stares down at me. But the messages in them are as clear as day. I'm his, not his, don't run.

 

 

The next week passes by. Lydia and Jordan would often visit, most of the time with Grey. But one tonight we'd gone out where Derek hadn't left my side once. It wasn't easy. It was still hard. Very fucking hard. He still wouldn't let me leave on my own. He wanted to know where I was and where I was going all day everyday. The promise I had made to him about getting help was made. Boyd had made an appointment for Derek and me to see a therapist. That had been the only way Derek would go - if I would go with him.

Some days Derek would wake at the break of dawn and dress in a suit, to go off to his companies and businesses - companies and businesses he'd told me about; he and Cora owned a lot of the successful restaurants and clubs throughout L.A. as well as a major global supplying company. Though I hadn't asked how they'd managed that - but most days were spent like this. Just sitting around the lifeless penthouse.

I'd brought up the topic of changing the place. Adding more furniture and a TV in the living space. He'd made no arguments, but he'd also said nothing much to topic either. But other days I would spend in the room he'd showed me the day of the phone call with Dash. The room was off from Derek's office. A smaller room than Derek's office, but still large. On the far wall sat a desk with a stack of A4 paper, with a large amount of pencils next to the stack. On the side was a professional easel. Two chairs, a hanging TV, and a plot plant also sat around the room.

It had been nice to draw once more. Derek would often come in a sit with me as I drew. He would either watch as my hand moved across the paper or would sit on the chair next to my desk and would be on his tablet - liking my company as he said.

That's what today was turning out like. I was drawing a simple picture of Dad from memory while Derek sat on the chair scrolling through his phone, when said phone came alive with a ringing tone.

"Yeah?" Derek asks. I drop my pencil on the paper and turn my chair to face him. "Okay." The conversation lasts no more than another few seconds before he stands up from his chair, turning to face me. "Cora's coming up."

A smile instantly spreads across my face. I had wanted to see Cora again for about a week now. But it hadn't happened yet. I don't think she even knew I was back with Derek. I follow Derek out through his office, hallway, and into the living space. We'd made it to entrance hallway just as the elevator hallways opened.

Cora walks in, her dark brown hair still hanged down her sides in a straight - curly way. She wore a black sleeveless shirt with a gold necklace hanging over it; dark jeans tight jeans; black high healed boots. I know my face must beam at seeing her, right as the shock rushes over hers.

"Stiles?" My name is called out, but it hadn't come from Cora's mouth. It had come from behind her. I glance behind her as the two figures emerge from the elevator. I feel as Derek's body tenses beside me. As Derek's Mom and Uncle follow Cora out of the elevator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
> \- Derek hasn't suddenly changed. He can't. He'll always feel the possessive control over Stiles, and the obsession with him. Though he will work to dull it. 
> 
> Next Chapter: early December :)


	22. Chapter TWENTY-TWO

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy Hell, the first part of this chapter was a pain to write. I couldn't get past the office part and the talk with Cora, Talia, and Peter in the beginning. That's why this took awhile for me to update. I hope it's alright :)

\- STILES POV - 

 

 

Cora walks in, her dark brown hair still hanged down her sides in a straight - curly way. She wore a black sleeveless shirt with a gold necklace hanging over it; dark jeans tight jeans; black high healed boots. I know my face must beam at seeing her, right as the shock rushes over hers.

"Stiles?" My name is called out, but it hadn't come from Cora's mouth. It had come from behind her. I glance behind her as the two figures emerge from the elevator. I feel as Derek's body tenses beside me. As Derek's Mom and Uncle follow Cora out of the elevator.

Talia Hale stood behind Cora, with Peter Hale's, Derek's uncle, arm around her waist. She looked vastly different from the last time I saw her. Her hair was longer; past her shoulders, with golden streaks through it. She wore wash out worn jeans, a low hanging black shirt that revealed her cleavage; a long white cardigan hanged from her shoulders. Peter looks the same since I had last seen him all those years ago; dark jeans and a tight solid coloured V-neck.

It's then that Talia starts forward, towards me. I feel Derek close in closer to me, his already tensed body straighten more. 

"What are you doing here?" She asks, with an unrecognisable emotion across her face. She keeps her dark brown eyes focused on me . . . ignoring Derek; her son. 

"Uhm - I'm here with Derek..." I say in response to her. I know, this was another moment I could've used. A time I could've used to get away; tell her that Derek took me. But lately it's been . . . different. He's not my best friend. The monster that he turned into seems to be dulled; hidden. He's different. He loves me. He said he will try. And right now using Talia to help me get away was the farthest thing from my mind.

"Oh, sweetheart," Talia continues, "You should have stayed away. You're better off without my son in your life." 

I stare at her in confusion for a handful of minutes. The Talia I knew never would have spoke to Derek like this. She loved her children; she treated my like her own whenever I would be at Derek's. What had changed since I'd left? 

I don't have that much time to question it; Derek body suddenly turns and walks in a fast pace, towards his office. 

A slam of a door echoes loud.

My feet move before my mind does, following his his steps into the office; opening the door to find him pacing in front of the painted wall, his fists were balled with a hardening look spreading across his face. The door closes behind me, I must have closed it behind me . . .

Again, my feet move before my mind does, walking towards him at a slow pace. But before I could open my mouth, letting it speak before I could think, his beats me to it.

"She's trying to take you away!"

I come to a halt as his pacing form turns to face me, his dark look staring down at me.

"She's trying to make you leave!" His voice is loud, bellowing around the office. "That bitch is trying to make you leave me again. I won't let it. You hear me? You're mine. And I'm not fucking-"

Power. He was afraid I would learn of this supposed power I have over him . . . 

"Derek, stop!" I speak in a forceful tone that resembles anger. "Stop. Calm down." 

In the past if I were to tell him to stop, whether it would be telling him to stop tormenting me or to stop hurting me, it would never work. But now, as I had thought, it was different. Ever since the night I told him I couldn't do it anymore, that I was leaving . . . the night he told me he loves me. The night I learnt that I held whatever the fuck power Derek thought I possessed over him. Since then it had been different. 

Now, as the words left my mouth - with the tone of my voice, and the annoyed look on my face - he stopped. 

His fists were still balled, and the dark look was still on his face. But he stood there. Had he, my best friend, always been like this? Fearful of power . . . fearful of me having power? If so, how hadn't I known? How could I of not known . . . 

"Don't leave me." Derek's voice breaks me away from my thoughts. 

His fists were still curled, but the darkness on his face had vanished. In its place were same features that were present days ago when he had broke. I still didn't know if I l . . . no. Right now isn't the time for me to question myself on all of this. The time for that will be with the psychiatrist; at Derek's meeting.

"Come on." I indicate with my head towards the door. But as I start forward towards the closed doors, Derek then moves; reaching out and grabbing ahold of the back of my bicep in a light grip. I still feel myself tense from the grasp. And I know he most feel me tense from the touch.

"Please, don't leave." His voice now a whisper. The broken tone that came from him, the tone I had heard days ago . . . I know now that I hate it. It was too far from Derek I know. Well, to be fair, the Derek I know died along time ago. Still . . . this broken tone wasn't him.

I look over at my shoulder at his face; into his green eyes. "I won't." I say before opening the door, feeling Derek's hand fall from the back of my bicep. 

 

 

I hear Derek's footsteps behind mine as we walk out from the hallway off from the office. 

Cora was by the large window, much like how her brother had been, she paced with small steps. Both Talia and Peter sat on the cough; Talia sitting in close to Peter, who had his arm stretched out along the back of the cough; behind her. Noticing now something I didn't before; Talia's eyes look slightly red. Like she had been crying . . .

"Stiles. It's been a long time." 

I turn my head towards Cora, who had just spoken my name.

"Hey!" I say as I turn my head to her, my smile widening. Only to have it falter, which happened to be a norm for me now, upon seeing the emotion painted across her face.

The words are on the edge of my tongue, but before they could leave my mouth; "Why are they here . . . what's going on?" Derek says, adding the last when he notices Cora's face.

"Do you remember Mom's sister, Aunt Peyton?" Cora asks moments later, now staring at Derek.

There is only silence for a few moments, as Derek slightly narrows his eyes in thought. "We visited her six - seven years ago. And Brett our cousin..."

Cora minutely nods her head. "She died." Cora goes silent then, keeping her stare with her brother. Like she was waiting for a response from him. But all Derek did was stare back at her. Keeping an emotionless face; something I was all too familiar with. I'm about to open my mouth, to say that I was sorry - the instinct everyone has when hearing this type of news - but Cora, realising Derek isn't going to respond, continues. "The funeral is at the end of this week. It's in Beacon Hills-"

"No." Derek immediately speaks.

"Derek-"

"No. Going back to that deadbeat town is something I'm never going to do." 

I turn to him, frowning. "Derek-" I start, but the deep voice interrupts from behind me. 

"Show some respect would you?" Derek's uncle speaks up from the lounge, beside Talia. "This isn't about you."

"Shut the fuck up." Derek growls back at his uncle. "I didn't ask you for your opinion."

"Boy-"

"What is wrong with you?" Talia exclaims; first noticing her son. "Why? Why are you like this? I've tried to -"

"You've tried fuck all. You fucked off with that cunt next to you as quick as you could; not even a minute after I got out of the hospital. You're a terrible mother." Talia's already glazed over red eyes look like they shine more, before turning away from him. 

It's then when I finally find voice and speak uninterrupted. I turn away from Talia and Peter, who stares towards Derek; both glaring at each other with intense hatred, and face Cora. "He'll be there."

"No I'm-"

"Derek." I say, staring up at him. With hard set tone in my voice. Using whatever the fuck power he thought I had over him. Watching as his shoulders sink down, like an animal backing down from a fight. I hated it. Sure, the monster who tormented me for years was gone, I think. But this here? . . . 

I just want my best friend back. The best friend who I fell in love for. The best friend who could bring a smile to my face whenever I was done, the one I could tell anything to. I just want him to be back. I know then why I can't tell him I love him. Why I don't think I could ever love him. I still loved my best friend. I don't think I ever stopped. But my best friend was just a memory . . . 

"We'll be there." Derek says to Cora. Who raised her eyes brows up slightly, casting a look towards me. 

It was a look of surprise that Cora cast my way; noticing it as I turn my head to look at Derek. Knowing that there too was a surprise look on my face. It isn't just that I supposedly had this power. It was that it worked. I hated being controlled by him; being controlled by fear. And now it was like the positions were turned. I had the power . . . like I was now what Derek had become. A tormentor. 

They did not stay long after that. In fact they began to leave not even a minute after Derek said we'll goto the funeral . . . in Beacon Hills. I followed Cora as she walked towards the elevator doors. Derek stood where he was, now facing the window that looked over the city. Though the sadness was still on her face, she smiled as she told me that we will catch up sometime. Then hugging me. 

Surprising me, Talia then stepped up to me and hugged me. But as I began to let go and step back from the hug, her words spoke into my ear.

"You should have stayed away, Stiles. He hurts everyone around him." 

 

 

I stare up at the dark celling. Sleep evading me. 

I know Derek, who lays beside me, is also awake. The hand of the arm that laid underneath my head would ghost over my skin every few minutes. Tonight was the first night since being brought here, since he had told me he loved me, that we didn't have sex. We'd just laid there. Silent. 

I feel as Derek's hand ghost over my skin once again. 

It's then that Derek's voice breaks the silence. 

"I don't deserve you."

"I know." 

It was the only thing that could come out of my mouth; the only thing I could think of what to say. I on my side, facing away from him and into the crook of his arm. The side of my face rests on his bicep. I feel as the hand from the arm I was now resting on wrap around me; the digits from his fingers run across my naked shoulder. 

"You're everything to me."

"I know." I say again - the only thing I could say.

I hear as he sighs out loud, before saying the three words that sent my mind spiraling. 

"I love you, Stiles."

I bury my face deeper into the crook of his arm, feeling the warmth of his skin. Closing my eyes against the warmth. I feel as Derek's wrapped arm around me gently brings me into him; rolling his body so that his front presses against my back. I say the only words that I could speak.

"I know."

 

 

The day before the funeral for Derek's Aunt Peyton was the day of the psychiatrist. 

The day after Cora, Talia, and Peter had been what it was like during the night. Different. The days being here he would never leave my side unless he had to go out; something with the businesses he and Cora own. 

But the day after their visit Derek had kept to himself. I had spent the day drawing. 

It had always been like that, that whenever I would draw, my feelings - anything that I would bottle down, my confusion, my anger, my sadness, my joy - it would all be unleashed through my pencil. 

The drawing I had started was like my others. The memory; the monster; the now. Like my drawings before, I drew my best friend. The Derek I knew, standing in the middle of the page. The monster that took my best friend, the monster I brought on? Stood to the right of my best friend. And the third, the now, stood on my best friend's left. A broken Derek, older than the other two. 

The drawing had only one colour while the rest of it was layers of dark shading. The only colour was his eyes. The middle, my best friend, was bright green I loved. The monster on his right had the darkness I saw when he tormented me, or when he took me. And on the left, the now, there was no other name for the green in his eyes; broken. 

The other half of the day, Lydia can visited, along with Grey. Who spent the time watching Jurassic World in awe on the iPad Lydia brought with her. Like the years before, I was growing closer to Lydia. Something I never thought would suit her; motherhood did suit her. Having kids had never been on my mind. But watching her . . . 

To have someone who looks up to you, that will love you unconditionally, someone you could teach - someone you could protect - someone you could love. But me? And . . . Derek? I could never be for us. 

But the days after, it returned back to normal. He would never leave my side, like he feared I would leave him. In the mornings he made me run with him before breakfast. The days changed slightly, he would sit in his office with the door open to the room I would draw in, in stead of sitting in the room. 

Full length conversations were rare. I had brought up having a TV being put in the living space. So it wouldn't be as lifeless. To my surprise he'd smiled and nodded. The nights were spent in his bed. He would spend a long time with his mouth on my body. The nights were filled with sex; his arm wrapped around me, pulling me in close as we sleep.

Walking behind the large stretch of Derek back, in the white tee; today was the psychiatrist meeting. 

After waiting the short time, we both walk into the psychiatrists office. A bold dark skinned man with a neat goatee greeted us with a kind smile, introducing himself as Alan Deaton, gesturing for us to take a seat. 

The time it took for Derek, and me, to tell Alan why we are here was hard. From our friendship, to the tormenting, to Derek telling Alan why; what he did; his obsession with me; his fear of me learning about the power I had over him - the fear of me leaving. For thirty minutes, Derek told Alan about our past. Which surprised me that he was willingly speaking. When Derek came to the end, where I was now back with the power he feared, Alan sat silent. A page full of written notes.

Alan is silent for a moment, his eyes looking up and down across his page. I feel as Derek moves in closer to me. "These intrusive, obsessive thoughts," Alan speaks from his chair in front of us, raising his eyes up from his page to look back at us, "these thoughts that Stiles is yours, they're repetitive?"

I watch Derek's face as he casts his eyes downward, his brows frowning, looking like he was trying to process something. "Yes." Derek answers, looking back up at Alan, before adding, "He is mine."

Alan drops his gaze once again down towards his page, writing some more. "Stiles." Alan now looks to me. "You've stayed with Derek, even after all that has happened. Why is that? What do you feel for Derek?"

I sit there in silence after Alan's question. days earlier I realised why I could not love this Derek, because I still wanted my best friend; still loved him. "I don't know." I answer, lightly shrugging my shoulders. Though I had answered, Alan still stared at me, like he was expecting more from me. "What do I feel for Derek?" I mimic his question. "Well . . . there's a warm feeling I felt with Derek once. Like - how it was. I don't know. That's what I feel." I wanted the memory, but I still felt it with Derek. But . . . I just. I just wish for one moment in my life, one day, where I wouldn't have to question everything that I feel, everything that I want.

Alan, again for the millionth time, drops his head to his page and writes. I suddenly feel Derek's hand press up against my right hand, that rested against the side of my thigh; on the lounge. I feel as I press against the touch. 

"Derek, do you feel remorse for what you did? Hurting Stiles like you did?"

Again, the frowning questioning look comes to Derek's face. "I do. But I did what I had to do. I had to make him hurt the way he hurt me; make him mine." Hearing those words, I start to pull my hand away from his. 'the way he hurt me' I had questioned whether or not it was my fault all this had happened. It had all started with me kissing -

"This isn't Stiles' fault, Derek." Alan responds instantly. "It's you. You have to take control of this. You say that you love Stiles, that you fear that he will leave you. Then don't make him, Derek. Take control of it. Take control of these intrusive obsessive thoughts and manage them. I would like to see you every week for a meeting. I'm going to prescribe you for Luvox. I would like you to take them and see if there's any changes." Derek doesn't say a thing, but moves his hand towards my moved hand to press against mine again. "Stiles, would you be able to make sure Derek takes the tablets; to see if there's any change?"

"Yeah," I nod my head. Feeling Derek press harder against my hand. 

Alan then rests across his desk and pulls a pad of paper towards him. Scribbling something on the paper, tearing and folding it, and handing it over to Derek. Seeing now that it was a prescription. 

He then nods his head, "I'm going to schedule an appointment for next week, same time, same day. Would that be fine?" Derek nods his head in slow movements. The appointment ends shortly after that. While walking out of the office, with me in front, I unintentionally - or intentionally - reach out my hand. The feeling of his larger warm hand holding mine comes moments later. 

My eyes meet his as we stand there. He loves me. I know he loves me . . . but he's not my best friend. I can't let that go. I can't let myself feel again. Five years ago, I started to feel it again. The love I once felt for Derek. And everything fell apart; the day everything in my world crumbled around me. I couldn't let myself feel again. Better to love the memory than be hurt by the now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if the psychiatrist meeting was inaccurate. I didn't have much to base on; only what I went through with my uncontrollable moods. I hope it was still good :D
> 
> Next chapter will be small compared to this. It'll be the funeral back in Beacon Hills; Stiles visits someone; and Derek will have to take on a new responsibility - that's somewhat hinted in this chapter ;)


	23. Chapter TWENTY-THREE

\- DEREK POV -

 

 

The wind was warm and the sun was beating down on us. 

The heat radiating from underneath the layers of my suit. It all looked the same. The same mountains. The same buildings. The same place I never wanted to return to. 

Five years ago I had set out the future; when our school years were done I would take Stiles and get out of this deadbeat town. As he was mine. But the future had turned out different. Stiles had run. And now he had the power over me. Stiles, my Stiles, could now destroy me.

Standing there, beside me in his suit, I never wanted him to leave said side. He was mine. He can't leave me . . . he was all for me. 

This morning, Stiles had been there, making sure that I had taken the medication Alan Deaton had prescribed me. The side affects would would last a week or two. 

The side affects would be as followed: nausea, sore throat, dizziness, drowsiness, weakness, yawning, anxiety, insomnia, sweating, muscle pain, and a decreased sex drive. 

Which all sounded fucking painful, but I had to. Stiles would, again, leave if I didn't take them. 

The old ways can no longer work anymore. I can't do what I did in the past because he knows that he had the power over me. That he could break with the image of his back walking away from me. 

 

 

The flight from L.A. to San Francisco and the drive out, in the rented car, to Beacon Hills had taken no less than two hours. 

The entire flight and drive I had looked on over to him and smiled. Not a full smile, just a small one. And just what scared the fuck out of me, I had broke . . . powerless. 

I love him. Everything that he is, I crave; to make him mine. I love him. But what I fear is that I'm powerless. I can't keep him as mine anymore; can't torment him to have him, to keep him . . . I fucking can't. 

I told him I would change, I would do what I can. But I can't go through another five years without having Stiles as mine. I would tear this fucking world apart to have him.

I had tried to hide it, to not show weakness; my emotions when Cora had told me that Aunt Peyton had died. But it hurt. Aunt Peyton and Brett were the only ones in my family back then that I actually cared for. 

Though the list of who I had let in had grown to include Cora, Jordan, and Lydia over the last five years, Aunt Peyton and Brett had always been there. Though I hadn't made contact in almost three years. 

Upon seeing my cousin, I start forward. Looking over my shoulder I see that Stiles is following my feet, putting my concerns at rest, concerns that he'll use this as a chance to run. 

But he had said he wouldn't . . . Winding my way through all my extended family and friends of Aunt Peyton, I walk up to Brett.

The last time I had seen him he had been fourteen, already standing at the height of my shoulder. It was when his interest in lacrosse had been at it's highpoint. Though, now he seemed vastly different. Wearing a low hanging tank top with a black leather jacket over it and dark jeans, instead of a suit. 

A long necklace hung from his neck, disappearing into his low hanging tank. 

Reminding me of the necklace I had hung around Stiles' neck that read 'MINE'. A necklace he no longer wore. His light brown hair was in the style of short on the side and long and styled on top. 

His normal light blue eyes, that were now dark and heavy with emotion, caught mine and offered me a small upturned smile, recognising me. 

"Derek, hey." Brett says, surprising me by coming forward with a hug. 

I stand there motionless for a few seconds before clapping him lightly on his back.

"Hey, Brett." I greet him back, pulling away from the hug. "I'm sorry." I say truthfully, feeling real remorse. 

This is what I hated. Letting people in would come to this. Eventual pain and sadness. 

Pain I've lived for five years. 

God fucking knows what I would happen if Stiles leaves again, or when he . . . I turn to face him again, to check that he's still standing by my side. He is.

"Thanks." Brett's voice, that was soft spoke, speaks. Noticing now that he stood full height with me. He was only seventeen and yet he was as tall as I was. 

Brett's eyes fall to Stiles, who stood next to me. I take the moment to introduce Stiles. "This is Stiles Stilinski. My boyfriend." I find that the word comes out easy from my mouth. The word has meaning. That he was mine . . . and I was his.

I see that Stiles' head turns in my direction at the word, but I keep my eyes focused on Brett, to see his reaction. 

Of course I wouldn't react right here if it was negative. The edges of his mouth pull upward. They greet each other with a hey and a sorry for his loss from Stiles. 

There's a few more words spoken between us before the last words a spoken. 

Finding that words - a conversation - was easy with Brett. Like how it was with Jordan, Lydia, Cora, and even Stiles. When the last words had begun, Stiles and I stood off to the side. 

As the final words went on I had reached down and grasped Stiles' hand, intwining my fingers with his. This loos, this sadness, I can't go through loss again. I cant lose him again.

 

 

Once the funeral ends, the last words were spoken, I had started to leave. 

But I had just managed to weave through the many jackets and dresses of black, Stiles slowly following behind me. Very slow. I stop and turn to face him, seeing a look on his face like he was questioning something in his mind. Is he questioning staying with me? . . . 

"Derek," Stiles says, looking up at me, "I'm going to -"

"Derek." 

The sound of my sister, Cora, called out lightly from my side. Stopping Stiles from saying the words that I was fearing. Stiles was going to, what? Leave. I can't - won't let that happen. Not again. 

"Hello, Stiles." Cora comes up to my side, smiling at Stiles. She was dressed in a sleeveless black dress that ran down to her ankles. 

"Hey, Cora." Smiles back at my sister. A beaming smile . . . as beaming a smile could be at a funeral. 

"Derek, can I speak with you for a second?" Cora asks, turning her smile away from Stiles to face me, the smile dropping. 

"No."

"Derek." Stiles says not even a second later, casting me with a frown. "Go speak with Cora."

I feel my brow frown back at him. His unfinished words echoing in my mind. He's going to -.... he told me he was going to stay with me. 

He didn't fight me anymore; we didn't fight. He was drawing again - drawing me. 

Night spent together, with Stiles in my arms, it was like how it was five years ago. 

The in-between time; after when I had raped and hurt him and before he had ran away from me. I didn't have the power anymore; he had it all, but it was almost everything I've ever wanted.

I take a step in closer so that when I ask, "You'll be here when I come back?" Cora doesn't hear.

He gives me the smallest of nods before saying: "Yeah."

Before turning to face Cora, I lean inward cupping the sides of his face and capture Stiles' lips with mine. Pressing my lips hard against his, pulling his bottom lip with my teeth as I pull away; feeling the warm breath from his exhale. 

I keep my eye tethered to his as I walk with Cora, until the thinning crowd of black suits and dresses swallows the tether.

"What do you want?" I ask right when she stopped walking, not too far but far from the nearest person.

"Alright, first of all, Derek, drop the asshole act. Not today. First, I want to ask about Stiles." I feel as my body stiffens as Cora brings up Stiles. "I wasn't oblivious to what was happening five years ago. Yeah, I wasn't sure, but I knew why you were bullying him. It was too obvious. We all knew it . . . I know you hurt him. So I need to know, is this what it was back then-"

"No. It is not." I immediately say. Anger ran through. Anger coming from, I don't know. "You could have asked me this anytime, Cora. I'm leaving now." 

I start to turn on my heal, to head back to Stiles, but Cora stops me in my tracks. 

"Derek, stop. I still need to talk to you."

Growling outward; turning back to face her. 

"Alright," Cora starts again, "you know that Aunt Peyton liked you. God knows why, I didn't. Anyway, it's in her will, but I spoke to her often. A lot when she was sick, and she told me about her will . . . Brett is only seventeen. And seeing how I'm always traveling; expanding the businesses, and Mom and Uncle Peter live on the East Coast, she left you as Brett's guardian."

My mouth immediately forms to say no. That I couldn't be his guardian. But a sudden thought crossed my mind . . . 

"He's family, Derek. I know that didn't mean anything to you in the past, but he needs his family right now. He needs you. You have to come back to Beacon Hills . . . just talk to Stiles about this." 

I surprise myself when my head nods at her words. The nod is small but noticeable.

Her face suddenly comes into mine, kissing my cheek. Something I had been opposed to in the beginning when I had first let my sister in. But now, I guess I liked it. "I'll call you later about Brett. He'll be staying with me in the meantime." 

She makes her way past me, into the thinning sea of black. Many were leaving now. All wearing sadness on their faces. Some had balled up tissues wiping away their tears. With the words Cora had just said to me running through my mind I make my way back to where I left Stiles.

Weaving my way through the leaving bodies I make the short way back, only to find where I had left Stiles empty.

The beat of my heart quickens. To the point that within a second it was punching itself against my chest. Both at the same time, my stiffens and stands straight, and my eyes dash across the area. Gravestone after gravestone. It's all I see.

He's left me again. It was all that was running through my mind. 

He said he would stand there. But his words . . .

'I'm going to-' . . . 

He's going to leave. 

My hand raises up and grips tight at the back of my hair. 

No. I won't lose him again. I fucking won't! I'll tear apart this fucking town, tear apart this country, Hell, I'll tear this entire fucking world to find him. He's mine. He said he'd -

Right then, when my eyes had been dashing across the endless tops of gravestones, I see him. 

His back is to me as he walks away. He's not running, but walking. I start forward immediately. My steps are fast and heavy. Rounding gravestone after gravestone, readying myself for whatever was to happen. 

He said he would stay. He would stay if I would get help if I took these fucking pills. Great job they were doing . . . but that's not the point. He's mine! 

It isn't until he's directly ahead of me that he stops.

His back is still facing me as he stands still, standing up to a gravestone. His shoulders become hunched forward and his arms hang motionless at his side.

It's when I come in closer that I hear his voice speaking, slowing down my steps. 

His voice held emotion, and as the words left his mouth, instant realisation hit me. 

"Love you, Dad." 

Space. It's what I should give him. But I needed him close. I needed to know that he hasn't left me. That he hasn't run. 

I take large steps towards Stiles, until my body all but pressed up against the back of his. I feel his body tense as I drop my face downward into the back of his neck; my lips sucking lightly at the skin at the back of his neck. His taste instantly flooding through me.

A gasp does leave him as my lips meet his skin, it's when my hands reach forward and grasp tight at his suit jacket; when a growl leaves my mouth, that his tense body slightly relaxes. 

Releasing my lips from his neck, I let out a breath, and let the words come out. "Cora told me that because works too much and that my Mom's too busy with my fuck head uncle, Aunt Peyton made me guardian of Brett."

I try and take his skin back between my lips, missing the taste of him, but he turns his head to the side. Silence reigns between us for handful of moment before Stiles speaks.

"When do you . . . get Brett?" Stiles asked, like he struggled to find the appropriate words. 

Stiles, Brett, and me. Having someone else in the time I'll share with him was never something I had put thought to - or had wanted to. But when I had seen Stiles holding Grey; Grey, who I would kill if anyone would hurt him, it had brought those thoughts to me. 

My mind had gone too deep in thought that Stiles' question went unanswered. Pushing forward away from me and turning to face me, staring up at me with a frown. "Derek you have to . . ." Stiles says, taking my silence as if my choice was to not to. 

"What do you think about it?"

The frown he wore deepened. "This isn't about me."

"Everything's about you, Stiles."

Stiles then breaks the eye contact between us, to clench them down; bringing up his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose; letting out a sigh. I don't understand this reaction. He knows he has the power; that I'd do whatever it takes to keep him in my life. That I'll do whatever it takes to make sure he's mine - he already is mine . . . "You have to, Derek. He's your family."

I nod my head, bathing in the amber browns of his eyes. But before my words could leave through my lips, Stiles' voice continues. 

"He goes to school here, right?"

"I guess so."

". . . you can't take him away from his friends and school after he already lost his Mom."

Realising what his words meant, I instantly start to turn it down. "No." I say, my head shaking with the word. "No. I can't live here again . . . all the businesses that Cora and I own and operate are in L.A."

"Derek, you can't just take him away from his friends after this."

"Why? . . . you left your friends when your Dad died."

"I had no fucking friends, Derek. You made sure of that."

The amber brown of his eyes were now darkened; the colour whenever he was angry. Yeah, I had made it so no one would get too close to my Stiles. He was mine and mine alone; if I couldn't have him the way I wanted I would torment him for kissing that girl. Only I could be the one who would torment him. He was mine. Why can't he fucking see that? 

Everything between us had seemed to be going well. Almost like it was. Arguing with him now, about our past, would erase all of that. "Jordan, Lydia, and Grey are in L.A.. Where we live is in L.A. . . . Alan Deaton is in -"

"Derek." Stiles interrupts me. "This isn't about you. This isn't about me. This is about Brett. This, Beacon Hills, is his home. It was our . . ." Stiles' voice pauses, before he takes a step in closer to me; inches apart. "I'm not running. I told you that. And you told me you would try for me. So try for me now. Try and get passed yourself, get passed me, and do what's best for your cousin. We're moving back to Beacon Hills."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter to get the ball rolling - to go deeper into Derek's mind. Short and not much to it, I know, but next one will make up for it :) A new psychiatrist; Brett; the move; and the begin of Derek's side affects. 
> 
> During January I'll be on one of my big update sessions - writing every day :D
> 
> Also, sorry if the guardianship information is wrong. I did not have to research it. It's a very busy time for me during these holidays :L


	24. Chapter TWENTY-FOUR

\- STILES POV - 

 

 

The bouncing of the ball from the backyard, the unpacking of objects, and Lydia's voice all drown away as I look across the granite top of the kitchen counter, and into the wide living room. 

Sitting with the newly brought furniture were two large beanbags, in the colours of red and blue. Like the ones that had been in his room. The ones we sat in all those years ago; growing up.

After the funeral, even though Derek still had more views on why we shouldn't move back to Beacon Hills, he'd been fast at finding a house to buy. The house was McMansion, in a newly developed suburb. 

The house . . . our house was nice. Long stone steps, shaped in an L shape, lead up to the front door. The outside of the house has split into the stone and light tan paint. Three balconies faced the front of the driveway in different angles. But what I had noticed most of all was the tree on the left side of the house. The large tree with branches stretched out from our new home to the other one next door. 

The inside of the house was an open plan. Walking in through the front door you come into the large - open living room. Two separate areas sat off from the left side of the front door. The first was the living room, with the two beanbags. 

The second, a few feet away from the living room, was the TV room. Down three steps a corner lounge sat in the middle of the room facing the large TV. 

The right side where was the staircase sat, curving up against the two walls. In the middle of the large open room, across from the front door, sat my drawers table. Something I had wanted or expected, but something I had not seen in awhile - something rare - when Derek had showed me the table. A smile. A genuine smile. 

It had been two weeks since the funeral, since Derek had started to take the medication to help him. It would take weeks still for any positive signs to show. But the bad were showing. 

More than a few times a day I had seen him with a look on his face. A look I had seen whenever I had looked in the mirror five years ago. Though I had noticed it would vanish as soon as I would see it.

Intrusive Thoughts; repetitive obsessive thoughts. What Alan Deaton had diagnosed it as. The sessions had kept up since the funeral, twice a week. Though the last two Alan had only wanted to speak with Derek alone. 

The last session before the move back to Beacon Hills Derek had come back from the session; after making sure that I was there when he came back, told me what was going to happen regarding his sessions. Rather than Alan referring another psychiatrist, they had organised session to be met over Skype. 

Brett walking in through the back door, where Derek and Jordan were too playing basketball against each other, pulled me away from my inner thoughts; away from the beanbags, to see a smile on his face. 

After Derek became his guardian and took him a smile on his face was a rare sight. Understandable. But at the time this house was brought the house to the left was being moved in, and a friendship was quickly made between Brett and the boy next door.

Though Brett and I weren't related, even in the short time, I had grown to care for him. The first week of Brett being with us he had spent almost all his time in the room that'd been set up for him, only coming out to use the bathroom or collect his breakfast, snacks, and dinner. 

The second week he'd started to come out of his room more, bringing the guitar he'd brought with him out. While I would draw, while Derek would be in the office next to me - or sitting in the same room with me, the sound of him playing could be heard. 

The sudden contact of a rolled up candy wrapper being thrown at me draws me back to Lydia. "You weren't paying attention to me." Lydia said, putting on a fake pout. 

"Sorry, what were you saying?" I turn my attention back to face her, hearing the sounds of the basketball bouncing on the ground mixed with Derek and Jordan's voices. 

Sticking her hand back in the bag filled with the candy she'd brought over, drawing out another handful. 

"I was saying that Jordan and I were talking last night, that the city isn't the ideal place to raise a family-"

"You're moving back here?" I ask before she could finish her sentence. Lydia and I had grown close again. Like it had been like before everything had happened. I can come to really enjoy it whenever Lydia, Jordan, and Grey would come to visit.

"We're just speaking about it. I know both of my boys would miss Derek," Lydia says with a smile, one pulling at the corner of my lips too. "Growing up Jordan had always wanted to be a deputy for the Sheriff's department . . . and that I'd like to raise my kids in a quiet town rather than the city.."

"Kids?" I ask, catching on to that use of a word in her sentence. 

Lydia widens her smile and gives me a shrug. Right at the moment she spoke her words, "I'm pregnant." The doorbell from the front door rang. 

I'm about to open my mouth in response to her, but the ringing of the doorbell rang again. Rounding the corner, I meet Lydia's shy smile with a look that we were going to continue this conversation when I get back, and get towards the front door.

Moving past the stacked boxes by the door, I pull it open and come face to face with a wide smile. 

"Well, Hi there, new neighbour." A woman who looked to be in her mid-thirties with long dark brown hair, wearing a thin navy blue tank top and black skinny jeans, greeted me. Holding a plate that was filled with numerous baked goods. I watch as her eyes drop down from my face and rake across my body; knowing that the Henley I was wearing was an old one and a size too small. 

Her eyes then rise back up to meet mine, her greeting smile then curving up and turning into a smirk. "My name's Jeanine Hawthorne. I live across the road from you." Jeanine maneuvers the plate so that she holds it with only her left, expending out her right. 

I take it, and meet her smile with a kind one. "Stiles Stilinski." I say my name, shaking her hand. But as I go to let go of the joined hands, hers tighten around me, stopping me. For a short moment she stands there, holding my hand; her thumb moving in small circles before dropping them. All the while meeting my questioning look with her smirk. 

"It must be tiring unpacking all those boxes; straining those strong hands. If you want any help unpacking them, I would be more than happy to -"

"He has all the help he'll ever need." A deep voice speaks from behind me; his body pressing up against my back. Instant warmth fills my body as his lips drops down to the back of my neck, trailing them across my skin. His warm breathing traveling across the back of my neck. 

I can't help but let out an long exhale when his hands come up and rest at sides, his lips now kissing the back of my neck. "Thank you." I manage to say, reaching forward and taking the plate of baked goods she'd brought over. Giving her now, what - confused, shocked, awed? face, a smile. "I'll make sure to get the plate back to you."

Right when the words leave my mouth, Derek's lips leave the back of my neck, the cool air chilling them immediately. He moves away from where he was pressed up against my back to stand by my side, his right arm coming up and taking ahold of the open door. "We'll mail it back to you." Derek says, before shutting the door closed. 

"You know you didn't have to do that," I say when he turns around, noticing now the shine of sweat along his arms and forehead from shooting hoops with Jordan, "I wasn't going to accept her offer."

Coming towards me in slow steps, Derek says, a smile taking ahold of his features, "I had to make sure she knew who you belonged to . . . who gets to feel those strong hands on him every day as I burry myself deep inside him." His voice had spoken deep before taking ahold of my lips with his. 

I had been wrong before, the positive moments did show. There were still times, a lot of times, when the dark look of possessives look over Derek whenever I would leave to see Lydia or would bring up the idea of looking for work. But times like this, times that would resemble my best friend, times when a smile would stretch across his face.

I didn't know what I felt. To forget all those years of pain would be impossible. But the man standing in front of me, the man who was once my best friend, once my tormentor, and now my partner? I know my head could never let him go. 

All the time spent with Dash I had shown happiness, happy that there was no pain in the relationship, but thinking of it now . . . it wasn't real happiness. 

I mean, fuck. What did that mean about me? That I couldn't find happiness like the one I had before, with the man now up close to my body, pressing his lips with mine in a strong kiss. 

He loves me. He's said as much so many times since first saying the words. Like a dam had broke and the words would keep on flowing through until I was drowning in them. I just didn't know how I felt . . . What I should feel.

"Derek, I'm hungry. Cook something." Lydia calls out from behind us, still sitting up at the breakfast bar. 

Derek's mouth then leaves mine, leaning away from my face. His green eyes now darkened with want. "I wasn't aware you were staying for dinner." Derek says back to Lydia.

"We're staying the night, Dere Bear." I can't help the small chuckle when Lydia calls Derek that name. First narrowing his eyes at me, then turning them towards Lydia.

"We have no room."

"In a five bedroom, two bathroom, mansion wannabe? I feel like chicken. Yes, chicken sounds great," She hops off from the chair, kisses Jordan on his cheek, and coming towards us. "Stiles and I will go get the chicken." 

I feel Derek's body start to tense at the mention of me leaving the house without him. I am quick to stop it, knowing this way worked as I had done it numerous times before. 

I lean up and take ahold of his lips, feeling the scratch of his stubble and the tingling warmth that flowed through me whenever we would kiss. Telling him I'll be back soon - reassuring him. It's then when I would question what is it I really feel for him once again. 

Grabbing my wallet, keys, and my phone with me, I walk with Lydia out the door and towards my car. "So back to what we were saying . . . you're pregnant?"

 

 

It seemed like everybody in Beacon Hills had the same desire Lydia had.

The local chicken place was packed. So packed that the seat where you'd wait for your order were all filled and a handful of figure were standing with them, waiting. 

Giving Lydia the money to by my half of the chicken, I walk off to the side to stand and wait with the other people. 

Looking at Lydia now, waiting in line, no one would think she was thirteen weeks pregnant. It took five minutes before came second in line to order. By now Derek had already sent a message, asking where I was; telling him the place was busy.

Letting out a exhale of relief when I see that the guy in front of her begin to turn; Lydia would now order. But the feeling of relief was a short blessing. Because when turned I was met with a face I had not seen in over five years. Not since the day of the storm. 

His dark brown hair was now longer, a mess on top of his head, but it was undeniable who it was. Pushing his wallet into the back of his jeans, his eyes follow across the waiting area, as if looking for a place to stand. That's when he sees me. 

His gaze then locks onto mine, his feet stop dead for a small minute, before a full teethed smile takes ahold of his face. 

"Holy shit, Stiles!" He exclaims, walking towards me. By now Lydia had turned, hearing my name being called, and was now watching as he walked towards me. "It's been, what, five years? How've you been?"

"Hey Scott." I greet him back, giving him a half smile in return. "Yeah, it's been awhile," I continue. "I've been alright-" I give the stereotypical answer, "how have you been?"

"Yeah, yeah, I've been good. Real good. Works been keeping my busy." Scott says, shoving his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. "You're looking real good." 

"Ah - thank you, Scott." At that moment Lydia walked over, seminally done with placing our order. Seeing now that in the short time Scott and I had been speaking another worker had taken up arms behind the counter; that the waiting group had been cut in half. "You too." I say, going by society's rules of returning that compliment when given. 

"Lydia, wow." Scott exclaims, like he had done so when seeing me standing there. "You're looking good too!" His eyes look down at her, like he had done with me moments before. His eyes zeroing in on her hand; her ring. "You guys are married?" 

"Me and Stiles?" Lydia asks Scott, with disbelief in her voice. "Unless I want a death wish, no. I married Jordan." Lydia smiles bright at mentioning that she's married with Jordan. 

I had seen it, when Lydia had said unless she wants a death wish being married to me, Scott's eyes and shifted to a questioning narrow, looking at me. I had to focus my eyes in another direction.

After Lydia's words, there's silence between us for a few moments, before Scott - knowing how clever he was from high school - spoke first, figuring out the hidden message in the words, before anymore were needed. "You're still with Hale." Scott says as if it was an insult. His voice now in a different tone to just minutes ago.

The words wouldn't come from my mouth, as if someone had poured concrete in my mouth and sealed them shut. But Scott's voice was quick to come again. "I thought you left when you never came back to school. Why . . . why would you come to him, even after all that I told you?" Scott voice had risen, so that a handful of eyes were focused on us. 

"You?" My head looks to my left to see that Lydia had taken a step towards Scott. An expression on her face I don't think I've ever seen. "You're the reason why Stiles ran all those years ago?" By now all eyes were on us, including the ones behind the counter. 

"I am. I told Stiles he should get away from that prick. Told him everything that was wrong with -"

"You don't know anything about what you're talking about." Lydia's voice had risen to the point that it now echoed through the chicken place. Without even waiting long enough to collect the ordered chicken, she turns and heads towards the entrance. 

With concrete still sealing my mouth, without a word I turn and follow her, but Scott's last remarks pause my steps. "I convinced you get away from him once before, Stiles. You need to get away from him . . . I'll do it again."

 

 

There hadn't been a word spoken between us since Scott. Not when we had left, not when we had driven to get pizza, and not when we had pulled up the driveway to my new home. 

My concrete sealed mouth finally breaks when she pulls off her seatbelt and goes to open the door. 

"Please don't tell Derek we ran into Scott."

Lydia lets out a sigh, before turn to face me, fingering the edge of the pizza box in her lap. "I thought you said you were here at your own free will.."

Why was this being brought up? "I am . . ."

"Then why shouldn't I tell Derek, Stiles? He was the one who made you run that day."

"Because he's getting better." It comes out sounding almost like a beg. "And hearing that we saw Scott, that he was near m-. . . Derek didn't like him at all. And hearing that Scott was here, it would . . . it would set him off."

Letting out another sigh, moving the box on her lap around - it would have to be hot having a warm pizza on her lap. "Look, Stiles, you weren't there to see Derek. Yes, what he did to you all those years was awful and I'm not trying to defend what he did. I still stand by the offer I made you the night you two came around for dinner, you can talk to me anytime about it. 

But after you left.. it was bad, okay? I know he didn't like Scott, I wasn't going to mention it. But I want to know why. Is it because you care about him, or do you have another reason? Derek's . . . to put it to words, he's broken. He loves you. Do you love him?"

"I don't know." I answer Lydia right away. "I don't know. I don't - I don't think I can forget what he did, Lydia."

"Of course you can't. But you tell me, that that man inside - who I had hardly ever seen smile in the past five years, even around Jordan and I, but smiles now more than I have in so long - wouldn't do anything for you. Like I said, Stiles. Derek's broken. Be the one that sticks all the pieces back together." 

Lydia then pushes open her door, and walks towards the door. I hop out too, and follow behind her in small steps. I knew that Derek had grown close to Jordan and Lydia over the past five years, but I didn't expect it this much. 

Jealously shouldn't be a feeling I should feel right now, but it was. He was my best friend, if anyone should be close to him, close enough to defend him by scream at someone in the middle of a chicken place, it should be me . . . 

Walking in behind Lydia, a wave of voices hit me. Looking around the large space, I take it all in. My eyes track across the people in this room - Lydia walking towards the counter, carrying the pizza in her hand. Brett sitting off to the side with his guitar, Liam - the friend he had made next door - next to him, both were smiling at each other. Derek and Jordan sat next to each other, with Grey in Jordan's lap, numerous toy dinosaurs were now scattered at Jordan's feet. Derek had his fists raised up and directed towards Grey, who had his tiny ones up and balled too, Jordan smiling at them both. 

Lydia calling out that food was here broke this moment, alerting Derek to my presence; Derek now noticing me staring at him. He's broken. But should I be the one to put them all back together? Yeah, his obsessive possessiveness began this with a nightmare, days met with tears and even blood. 

I had spent three years running, wasting my way through the money I had taken from my Dads safe on fuel and motel rooms, and two years living a lie. I had enough, I could of left the country. Started over in safe place, and yet I didn't. 

Even now, I have had plenty of time I could run. Nights when I laid awake in Derek's arms, battling my mind. Days when Derek would leave me along with Boyd, who I had not seen since moving here. Times when we would go out in public places, filled with hundreds of people. And yet, with all those times, I didn't run. I had stayed. 

Like after everything I was pulled back here, to these people. People that I cared for - began to care for. But what I felt for the man now looking at with, his brilliant green meeting my amber brown, I didn't know. 

My best friend I could love. My tormentor I couldn't. But what could I feel for the broken pieces left behind?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think some will like this decision and some might not, but there's going to be a third part to this story, with an added POV - Brett's POV. 
> 
> More conflict is coming. Old faces will return, you've seen one in this chapter - told you we wouldn't see the last of Scott >;) - other faces that will test Derek. My plan had been to go on for another five chapters, but I feel I would end up rushing this if I ended this in fiver chapters.
> 
> This is the last of part two, part three will be very soon :)


	25. Chapter TWENTY-FIVE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 3!! :D
> 
>  
> 
> Alright this starts out a bit . . . light? :? but you all know me, this'll get dark >:D Dark Derek will make an appearance again, there'll be a stalker (from this chapter I can guess you'll know who it'll be) and Brett will have his own troubles. I'M NOT GOING SOFT ON YOU GUYS!!! I promise! Hahaha. 
> 
>  
> 
> Hope you guys like Brett's POV :)

\- BRETT POV - 

 

 

 

Seated by the window, with my Harmony Archtop guitar in my lap, playing a song I had heard almost every day growing up. 

My Mom's favourite song. 

My guitar was old and chipped. It still had my initials on the face when I had first been given it, back before I had turned double digits. My baby in my lap has been there for me through everything since the day I got her. 

It got me through when my best friend moved away. When I had wanted to contact my Dad but I had got back was silence. When Mom . . . when she went away my guitar was here for me, to drown in. 

Living with Derek and his boyfriend Stiles was okay. It was actually pretty alright. Years back when Derek and Cora had spent most of the summer with me and my Mom, I had gotten on well with Derek . . . as well as anyone could. Back then Derek had been... guarded? 

That's the best word to describe it. Also very intimidating. Cora, one the other hand, was the complete opposite. 

Derek was still intimidating but it didn't seem like he was all that guarded. He smiled a lot when Stiles was near him. Which was most of the time. Whenever I would walk down stairs or into a room they'd be there together. 

I liked Stiles. He'd always direct a kind smile towards me and would ask how I was doing, but not so much as it would become annoying.

The sudden appearance a jean clad leg coming through my window stops my moving fingers, bringing the room to silence. Well . . . silence apart from the grunts of Liam walking in from the tree trunk that stretched from my window to his, and into my room.

Dropping down into my room, I take in the guy who'd fast became one of my good friends. Wearing new looking jeans, his grey tank top with a low hanging collar that showed the light dusting of his light brown hair on his chest, with a odd patterned blue shirt hanging open from his shoulders. 

I'm thankful that I have my guitar in my lap so that the growing reaction caused by him wouldn't be noticeable. 

I couldn't help it. It wasn't because he was beyond sexy. Liam was there through the worst part of my life. Sure, it was nothing more that two strangers randomly meeting in the space between our houses. But it grew fast. 

He listened. He made me smile in a time when everything was dark . . . his smile. 

Seeing it; his square jaw widening as his smile stretches, I couldn't help but smile along with him. It'd only been four weeks since I'd met him, but it was all it took for me to fall for the boy who's head only brushed the bottom of my chin in height. 

Dropping down from the window Liam had walked his way right over to my bed and flopped down onto his back, his shoulders resting on my pillows; bringing his arms up so that they rest behind his head. 

Liam coming in a flopping down onto my bed, making himself comfortable, wasn't out of the norm. It was something Liam had made a regular thing. Not that I mind it though . . . 

"It is hard to play guitar?" Liam asks, staring his ice blue eyes to mine. 

"Not really, why?" I ask, leaning back in my chair, keeping my guitar firmly placed on my lap. One of the many things that make me to rid of all rational thoughts and slam my mouth onto his is his eyes. Those eyes . . . so fucking blue.

"Hayden has a thing for them. Thought you could teach me." he says, flashing me his smile. Right then, at the mention of his on-again-off-again girlfriend, deflates and extinguishes everything. 

Fiddling with the pick in between my thumb and forefinger, "I thought you two broke up again?" 

"She called last night and we got back together."

I don't let the stabbing feeling show and push past the topic, dreading that I'll now have to see them at school all over each other . . . again. 

"I can show you how to play tonight?" I offer. My reaction to seeing Liam spread out across my bed had died down at the mention of his now girlfriend. 

"Awesome, man!" He again flashes me that smile before pushing up from from my bed to stand up facing me, stretching his arms up, causing his light grey tank top riding up, showing the slight sliver of tanned skin. 

Fuck. I mentally curse. My blood flow returning back south. "Wanna head out and do something before tonight?" Liam asks. 

"yeah, yep -" I stutter like an idiot, pushing my guitar further into my lap, afraid that Liam will see my reaction. "I'll just go tell Derek and Stiles, and I'll see you in a minute."

"Awesome." Still smiling as he pushes up onto the windowsill, my eyes watching as he disappears out the window to climb along that huge tree in-between our houses. I sit there for another minute before I remove the guitar from my lap and set it down beside the chair. 

Looking down at my lap now I was thankful for my guitar, otherwise the visible bulge in my jeans would've been seen. It was getting bad now. Before I could control it. But now? Just looking at him . . . smelling the cologne he wears... it made me harden before he could even say hello to me.

 

 

 

\- STILES POV - 

 

 

 

"Scott, you need to stop ringing me!" I say into my phone, pacing the floor of my bedroom. 

Why did I answer his call? I question myself. 

This wasn't the first time he had called since seeing him with Lydia four weeks ago. It had started less than a week ago. 

I don't know how he had got my number, but Scott had called; saying that I need to get away, that I shouldn't of come back, telling me what he told all those years ago. 

"No! Not until you realise like you did five years ago and leave . . . I'll come with you this time and protect you."

What . . . My mouth opens; the words sitting on the edge of my tongue - to repeat my words, telling him to stop ringing me. Three times, fourth if you count this time, Scott had rang me. 

Each time I had to make sure Derek wasn't anywhere near. Each time he would ring my mind would back pedal to when he had kissed me in that bathroom . . . when Derek had driven his fist into his face numerous times. 

But before the words could leave my mouth a knock came from my closed bedroom door. Pulling away my phone, ending the call, I call out "Yeah?" Knowing it was Brett . . . Derek would never knock.

The door is pushed open to show Brett on the other side, who'd now changed from when I had seen him an hour ago; now in a black sports jacket, a plain white tee, and dark jeans, his necklace that I had noticed he would never take off hung from his neck and over his tee. "You going out?" I ask. 

"Yeah, just with Liam. I'll be back before dinner." Brett says, before narrowing his eyes, and saying: "Stop smiling, Stiles."

"I'm not smiling." Even I know I am, I can feel the muscles in my face stretch up. I couldn't help but smile. I had grown to really care about Derek's cousin; I could see that he liked the boy next door. A flood of Déjà vu spread through me. 

"We're just friends."

I hold my hands up in a surrendering motion. "I didn't say anything." The obvious smile in my voice was there when I spoke. 

"Yeah, yeah." Brett keeps his narrowed eyes on me as he turns away from the door and starts away. His voice then coming again when he's just outside the door. "Hey Derek." 

The smile that was on my face then falters slightly. I look down at the phone still in my hand. The repeating words Scott had spoke to me were clashing with the ones Lydia had spoken to me. I can't say that I love Derek, I didn't even know myself. I didn't know how I could. 

But I couldn't say that I wasn't . . . happy here, that it didn't feel good. Each morning I would wake to him; not my best friend, but not tormentor either. 

I put down my phone onto the desk surface next to me.

The door to the bedroom opens wider and in walks Derek. Before I had gotten up from bed; barely awake Derek was up and dressed in a suit. 

Most mornings I would wake up to Derek beside me, his mouth cascading across my body - one thing that made this feel good; happy. Still dressed in his suit; a navy blue suit, crisp white shirt with a black tie. "Hey." I say with a smile, my voice in that soft greeting tone. 

It's then that I notice that he's not looking at, greeting me back. His eyes are focused in on my body - my torso to be exact. I look down, thinking that there was a spill of sorts - no idea why that concern came to me - seeing that I was wearing a Henley. 

I had gotten dressed after Derek had left. I don't know why but whenever I would wear one of the Henley's it would send Derek wild. Even now, the reaction was the same. His green eyes were dark and deep with lust.

He starts forward in slow steps. "You know what you in those shirts do to me." Derek's voice was a growling low. I mimic his movements and take a small step backwards. 

"Maybe I should stop wearing them." I say playfully - like it had been good, it felt easier to speak with him. 

Closing in the space with large steps, Derek's hands grab ahold of me; gripping tight with on my shoulder and the other on my bicep. "Don't you dare." It was all he said before his mouth collided with mine. 

His stubble scratching across my skin, a feeling that I grown to long for. Gripping one hand tight on the lapel of his jacket, the other on his tie I pull him in close. 

 

Almost an hour later we lay on the bed, loss of all clothes, with Derek's large hand wrapped around me; his face now buried in the back of my neck. 

This was the time when my mind would run ramped . . . when didn't it these days... 

But Derek being broken; me being the one to piece him back together. But why should I? That question was a consent. After all that he's done. Whether I started it or didn't by having my first kiss with another that set him off. 

After all he's done, taking me by force, tormenting me for years on end, chasing and finding me years later and forcing me to stay with him . . . 

Which lead to me staying here by my choice. It lead to my tormentor vanishing; to this Derek. A broken Derek, still obsessive and possessive; slightly getting better. Which lead to me sharing my days and nights with Brett who I cared for like I had known him for years, and Derek who I felt good with . . . 

"You taste amazing." Derek's warm breath blows across the back of my neck, across the skin that was wet from his mouth. "I love you." Derek says the words he'd spoken now many many times. The words I haven't said. 

Like a stereotypical suspense breaker, the ringtone from my phone rang from where I had put it down on the desk. 

Unwilling for the first few moments, Derek wouldn't remove his arm that was wrapped around me, but as the ringtone kept going, he finally let go. Pushing up from the bed, walking across the carpeted floor, I pick up my phone, swipe across the screen and answer.

"Hello?" 

"Stiles, listen to me, you're too good for him. I can help you get away-" 

I pull my phone away from my ear and end the call, cutting Scott's voice off midway. 

I let out an unintentional groan of frustration. Having Scott add to my already confused - battle field mind wasn't helping. I should block his number... I really should -

"Who was that?" Derek's question comes from where I had left him; sitting up, his defined chest drew in my eyes, looking at the light touching of dark chest hair. Though like usual my eyes didn't hang onto his body but rather his eyes. His emerald green eyes. 

There was no way I could tell him who had just called me and I know I couldn't tell him no one. He wouldn't accept that answer. The first thing that comes from my mouth that isn't Scott, is: "Just one of my Dads old friends, he couldn't get me a job at-"

"You didn't respond. You only hung up." Derek said, getting up from his bed and walked his way, naked like I was, over to me so that he now stood toe to toe with me. "And you know how I feel about you working." Even though he was so close to me now he made it possible to move in closer. "Who was on the phone, Stiles?"

Dropping my eyes. Idiot. I'm an idiot. Telling him it was one of my Dads old friends . . . I wanted to work and I knew how he felt about it -

Derek's strong fingers grip my chin, drawing my eyes back up to look into his green eyes. "This is twice I've now seen you have a phone call like this. Who was on the phone, Stiles?"

I couldn't say Scott. I couldn't ruin all the process he'd made. So, instead I say: "Dash." Thinking it would be better that is was Dash who'd called me . . . I was wrong.

 

 

 

\- BRETT POV - 

 

 

 

"Hey, man." I say, smiling as I watch Liam climb in through the window. 

Seeing him now, like how we had planned earlier today, made tonight seem better than it was. Tonight, after I had come back home today it had been weird. Derek and Stiles arguing wasn't anything new. But seeing the look on Derek's face . . . it looked . . . Hell, it looked scary. 

"Hey." Liam says when he drops down from the windowsill, straightening his jacket. Noticing now that he had changed from his white tank and over shirt. Now wearing a plain black tee with a blue nylon jacket over top, unzipped. Fuck. 

"You changed." I stupidity point out. Mentally calling myself an idiot. 

Liam looks down at himself then raises his head back up. Relief floods through me when his smile is still there and not a confused look from my comment. 

"Yeah. Hayden's coming over tonight. Wanted to look good for her." 

"You wanted me to show you how to play the guitar. We should start." I push my lips up in a smile. I know I shouldn't feel this way. He was my friend - someone who has been here for me in my darkest time. He was straight . . . with a girlfriend. Jealousy is something I shouldn't be feeling.

"Awesome!" Liam exclaims, flopping down onto my bed. Grabbing my guitar I take the place next to him. 

 

Thirty minutes later it was to smiles and laughs. 

"I suck at this. I really do." With the guitar in his lap, Liam says with a false disappointment in his voice. "I'm much better with a lacrosse stick. Why couldn't Hayden have a thing for lacrosse players instead." 

Even with the mention of his girlfriend it couldn't drown out the give image of Liam with his lacrosse stick. Wearing his molten red lacrosse uniform . . . shit, I was pathetic. 

"Here," I say, learning forward. "Like this." taking his pointer and thumb that was holding the pick with my own. Keeping myself calm. This isn't the first time we've touched. But Hell . . . 

Moving his fingers like the way I would when playing. It was nothing to a song, just a few notes. It sounded alright. 

"That's amazing." Liam exclaims, watching his fingers - both of ours - in awe. No want's amazing is watching Liam on the field. A lacrosse God . . . as corny as that sounds. "Keep this up and I'll be able to play at least thirty seconds worth. That should be enough . . . thanks, man." Liam says, turning with his smile to face me. At that time I had been facing him. That God damned smile causes my own smile to break out. 

"No problem." I say, our faces still inches of each other. "Again after school tomorrow?" I ask.

"Yeah." 

What should've been the end of the conversation; what should have been what pulled us away from each other had the opposite effect. Like we had both been frozen, we stayed there. Seconds went by as we just sat there. His smile had begun to falter, mine joining his. 

This was the clichéd moment in movies when the two would lean in and kiss. The moment was in nearly every teenage movie. But when his ice blue eyes drop down from my own, down to my lips of all places. I couldn't stop myself from doing it. 

I'm hesitant as I move in closer. I eyes are locked onto him, watching for any sign of reaction from him. His eyes do jerk up, surprise flossing through them. But he doesn't pull back like I thought he would - regret now steamrolled through me. Fuck he'll know now. He won't want -

Liam's sudden movement pulled me away from my thought on how stupid I am. He was moving forward, like me at a slow pace, until our mouths were closer than they have ever been. I want to push forward. I want to slam my lips on the lips I have thought about for nights on end. But I don't.

I could feel Liam's warm breath on my lips that were parted slightly. Please, I pathetically beg in my head. Please come forward; our lips now grazing each other. I get my first real feel of them as the bottom pushes forward. They're soft -

Liam suddenly pulls away. "Uhm - I should - um . . . I should head back. Hayden will be over soon." His voice comes out in a rush. Standing up, he puts the guitar down where he was seated and heads towards the open window. "I'll, um, tell you tomorrow."

"Yep." Is all I get away as I watch Liam hop through my window and along the tree as fast as he could. Fucking Hell. I throw myself back onto the bed. Holy fuck did that just happen? The tingling feeling of Liam's lips still run through me; I could still feel them . . . I felt amazing. Such a small feeling and it was just wow. But he was my friend. Hell, my best friend. This wasn't something I should be doing. He has a girl friend for Gods sake. "Fuck!" I exclaim out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plans I had set out for my stories didn't go as planed, January has been more busy for me than I had expected. I will start studying again next month but I'M NOT GIVING UP ON THESE STORIES! I never will :) 
> 
>  
> 
> Updates will slow down much more - I don't know my time table yet . . . updates will return to being updated in this order: He's My Best Friend; Also My Tormentor. Orange Greater Than Red. Howling Mountain. Captive; and Mine! . . . and possibly a Star Wars one because I don't know any better and keep wanting to write new stories ahaha. 
> 
>  
> 
> :D <3


	26. Chapter TWENTY-SIX

\- BRETT POV - 

 

 

Pulling on the blue plaid shirt, so it would hang from my shoulders - open, showing the the mid section of my black Metallica shirt - I pocket my phone and head out through the front door. 

Things were still weird. Not that I had spent a whole lot of time with Stiles and Derek but when I had came to live with them after Mom . . . - even weeks later it was still hard to say, it was all but impossible to voice the words - I had seen how they were - how Derek was; smiling and starting at Stiles when he was and wasn't looking at Derek. It was what I wanted. 

While thinks were weird with Derek and Stiles, I know it will be weird today. I haven't spoken to Liam since last night. When we had almost kissed. I know I must look recked; my mind had refused to shut off when I had tried to sleep. Taking the L shaped stone steps down to paved driveway, I tug on my backpacks strap and head towards my right; towards Liam's house. Where we would meet every morning before school. 

What the fuck had I been thinking? Yeah, I had stupidly fallen for him - fallen for my straight best friend. 

But he'd leaned into me too, didn't he? No. I mentally shake my head. I can't think that. I have to make sure my friendship with Liam didn't suffer from this. He'd been the one who'd helped. Who'd be there for me at my hardest time. No matter what I felt, no matter how strong the feeling was, his friendship was more important.

My steps walking towards Liam's suddenly stop as I take in the two ahead of me. Liam was there, wearing a pair of dark jeans and a grey hoodie zipped up halfway, showing the top of his white tank top. But it wasn't Liam that stopped my steps. It was who was with him. Hayden was there, pressed up close to right side front. Of course it wasn't the first time I had seen Liam with her. But it all still felt the same when seeing them together. I hated it. 

Continuing my walk towards them, "Hey." I say. Towering over them. I can't help it when it happens but when I walk up to them my eyes drop down to Liam; down to his collar bones. Everything about him . . . Jesus, at this point I would be crossing the border into obsession.

"Hey." Liam greets back, looking up at me. Smiling. But it wasn't his smile. The one that would always make me smile - the one I'd always see on him. This one looked forced . . . shit. I didn't want this. I didn't want a lot of things.

"Hey Hayden." I greet her. I hated seeing them together; seeing Hayden with her back pressed up against Liam's front with Liam's face close to her neck. But I would still say hello to her. That's the type of person I was. 

"Yeah. Hi." Hayden said back without looking up at me; keeping her eyes on her phone screen - only turning away from it to look at Liam. "Can we leave now? I have to meet Tracey in twenty. You know what," Hayden exclaims, pushing off from Liam, and shrugging off her backpack. "Carry my bag for me. We were standing her for too long. I'm sick of wearing it." She pushes it into Liam's chest. Liam takes it, shouldering it on one shoulder while he carried his on his other. 

The walk was quiet. Liam stayed next to Hayden as we walked to school. Apart from the greeting, it was like he didn't acknowledge that I was there. When we reached the front steps of the school, Hayden took the bag off of Liam's shoulder and took off in the other direction.

I don't hate her . . . I really don't. But I did resent her. If that had been me, walking in with Liam as a couple. I wouldn't take off in a different direction. I would stay there. Hell - I don't think I'd let him out of my sight. I'd let the whole school - the whole world see him as mine . . . wow. Where'd that come from? That border I thought I might cross into obsession? Yeah. I think I'm tilting on the edge of the border. 

"Are you coming to my game tonight?" Liam asks, finally speaking to me. Though he wasn't facing me..

"Yeah. Of course. I've come to all your games." When he'd moved here Liam had been quick to be the best at tryouts. He'd been quick to become one of the best on the field. And that wasn't just me saying it because I had stupidly fallen for him, he really was one of the best players. 

"Awesome." Liam says back, finally looking up at me. Giving me that fake smile, so unlike his regular. Before walking forward and towards the entrance to the school.

I would fix this. Even if I had to push away what I wanted - what I felt - I would fix this. I couldn't loose him like I had lost my Mom.

 

 

Pressing my head against the coolish wall of the bathroom stall. 

The sound of my flushing toilet filling the air around me. I didn't do this often . . . I didn't do this at all. Lean my head against a bathroom wall - the boy's bathroom of all places. I just needed a place to cool down - a place to think.

All day it had been weird. I tried to push past it, tried to ignore what I wanted, tried to ignored how Liam now acted around me, for our friendship. But I just couldn't. We'd almost kissed, for fucks sake! 

I couldn't screw this up. I couldn't. But seeing him before in the cafeteria, with Hayden pressed so close to him. I just couldn't . . . I know Liam had seen me walking towards out table. I had seen how his expression had changed upon seeing me walking towards them. Leaving the cafeteria had been my only opinion.

Realising a sigh, I think about Mom. She would know what to do. She always knew what to do. I needed her. I needed her to still be here. I needed to hear her voice, telling me what I should and shouldn't do. I need - I feel my eyes start weigh and dampen. 

No. I couldn't cry here. Not at school. I listen and wait until I hear the water stop and the door open, hearing the many voices, before closing. Shutting off the sound, leaving me in silence.

Pushing away from the the wall, I unlock and open the door, wiping away at my eye - incase there was any wetness left, and open the door. Hanging my head low, my head to busy to notice my surroundings, I don't notice that the door had opened until the sound of it shutting brought my head up; my eyes meeting the bright blue I had fallen for.

"What'd you leave?" Liam asks with a frown, walking over towards me. 

"What?" The only word that could come from my mouth . . . idiot.

"Just before, you were walking towards the table then you just turned around."

I let out a defeated sigh, dropping my shoulders. "Because I saw your face Liam. I saw the way you looked when you saw me walking towards you." I guess this was it. This was when I would loose my best friend, someone who'd been there for me when - when my Mom wasn't. All because I couldn't fucking control what I felt.

There was no words spoken between up for a few minutes; avoiding his eyes, but I had seen him drop his own. 

The silence was broken by Liam. Keeping his gaze focused down, hen asked: "Can - can we just, you know, forget it?"

"I can't." I was going to say it. I was already going to lose him as my best friend, what did it matter if he knew how I felt. As soon as as the words left my mouth, Liam's head had popped up. "I can't, Liam."

"What . . . why?" Liam shifted on his feet.

"Because I like you!" I say a little too loud. Butt fuck it. Seeing Liam with Hayden, seeing Hayden treat Liam like shit, missing Mom, and about to lose Liam, I just didn't care if anyone heard. "Because I fell for you. I didn't - I didn't mean to. I know you're straight, I do. But I couldn't help it. So I can't forget about it. Not when we -"

The words were stopped when Liam surged forward, jerking up and pressing his lips against mine. 

I stand there frozen, not knowing what to do. Here, my dream - what I wanted, what I really wanted. It was happening . . . what was happening. 

The kiss lasted less than five seconds before Liam pulled away. Are widened eyes colliding with each other, both of our mouths gaped open. He'd kissed. Liam Dunbar had just fucking kissed me. When my mim finally caught up to the situation, I push forward into him. This will most likely lead into a disaster, I mean Hell, he has a girlfriend, but I just . . . I just didn't care.

Grabbing ahold of his hoodie, I slam my lips onto his, pulling him back with me until my back hits the far wall, away from the door. 

The kiss was rough. Sloppy. Like it was full of need and want. Too far gone to think, I drop my hand to his hoodie zip and pull it down, all the way until the hoodie hanged off his shoulders. Then pushing my hand up underneath his tank, feeling the muscled bumps of his abs. "Holy shit." I breath out when my mouth leaves him for air. 

Liam's hands that had been gripping the sides of my over shirt moved up, roughing up my collar, up to my neck and pulled up, taking my lips again with his. With my palm pressed against his abs, his hands at my neck and shoulders, out lips pressed together . . . it was amazing. So God damned amazing. But it was short lived; the sound of the door being pushed open, with the laugher and voices filled the bathroom. 

Liam broke away instantly, turning away from me and heading towards the voices, and out of the door. Leaving me standing there against the wall. When the guys who had interrupted us came in, looking at me, I throw my head back to stare up at the celling, knowing what I must look like; pushed out with the shirt of my over shirt roughed up. What the Hell just happened?

 

 

\- STILES POV - 

 

 

The muscles around my neck ache from where Derek's hand had gripped tight. 

The choke had not last long. I had woken up to find Derek awake, staring at what was my sleeping form. The look he had been sending my way wasn't what what he'd usually give me in the morning . . . yeah, okay. I enjoyed the looks. Even after everything. This look was the same he'd been giving me since I lied to him about speaking with Dash. 

The first words that had come from my mouth was his name. Questioning him. But no other words can come out. He had slammed his mouth onto mine. It was a domineering kiss, much like how it was five years ago. Shortly after he had pushed his fingers into me. Though it wasn't rough. It wasn't yo hurt. When he'd removed his fingers and entered me it wasn't . . . bad. But his face. It looked like he was struggling. Like he was in pain; like he was trying to decide something.

The hand had come around my neck when he was close to finishing. When words began to fall out of his mouth. Words like the ones he'd said to me many times before. 'you're mine' 'it's me and you' 'mine. not his!'. When he'd finished he stayed atop of me; his hand still wrapped around my neck; his eyes clenched shut. 

The hand only removed itself when I had grasped out his name. His eyes had shot open and removed his hand. The look he'd been wearing before, confusion mixed struggling and pain. 

It was quiet for sometime after that. Until Derek's phone broke the silence; causing Derek to push up off the bed and pulling on a pair of black sweats he'd been wearing yesterday; a pair he'd thrown on the floor before climbing into bed last night. 

"Derek?" I say again. But he doesn't respond. He only turns away so that his back is facing, checking the screen on his phone, before pocketing it and starting forward. 

"Derek. Stop!" I say again, with more force in my voice. This time Derek does stop walking, but he kept his back to me; facing away from me. "For fucks sake, Derek. Yell at me. Scream at me. Tell me I'm yours. Get angry. Just do something other than . . . than this." I surprise myself by yelling it at him. 

I hated this. I truly hated this. Four sides now, four sides that I have basically caused. My best friend, my tormentor, the broken piece, and now this . . . all because I lied to him. But I couldn't have told him who really was on the phone. 

As much as I hated this, I couldn't let Derek know Scott was back and had been calling me. I know what would happen if I did.

"Don't leave the house." Were the only words he spoke before existing the room. 

Kicking away at the sheets that were covering from my waist down and heard towards the door. Only realising then that I had nothing on. Stopping to pull out a pair of light grey sweats and plain tee, I walk out and down the hallway towards the staircase. 

"Who are you?" I ask while coming down the stairs, looking at the strange dark skinned man who was standing in the foyer. I look for Derek, trying to find if he was near; if this stranger was here for Derek. I reach the bottom of the landing just when the stranger turns as faces me, staring at me with a face void of any emotion. Instant recognition floods through me when I see his face. "Boyd?" I ask. "What are you doing here?"

"He's here doing business with me." Derek's voice comes, making my head turn towards him as he walks out from the back hallway. Where Derek's home office was. He's doing business with Derek. The last time I'd seen Boyd was when I was living in Odessa . . . while I was with Dash . . . no...

"Derek can I talk with you? . . . for a second." I ask. If I knew what Derek was going to do . . . I couldn't let it happen. I couldn't let someone else get hurt because of my lie. 

Like how it was in the bedroom, he didn't face me. "Later." It was all Derek said before both he and Boyd walk off towards his office. I hated this, I fucking hated this. I didn't know how I felt about Derek, that I should feel anything . . . No. I think I know. But the couldn't voice the words. But I know what I felt right now. And I didn't like it one bit. 

 

 

"We found a place that's nearby. Four bedrooms with a big backyard. We're driving up there now. We should be in Beacon Hills in forty minutes . . . Although with Jordan's driving we'll most likely be there in an hour and a half." Lydia speaks through the phone. 

An annoyed sounding 'hey!' comes from the speaker, accompanied by 'Need to drive safe while my son and my beautiful pregnant wife are in the car withe me' "Cute." Lydia says, even then I could hear the smile in her voice. "So we can come pick you and and Derek up in an hour or so?" Lydia asks, the quiet sounds of Jordan grumbling in the background.

Fallen down into the chair in my bedroom, looking out the window. How cliché, I think. On the phone, staring out the window and thinking about my . . . partner? I didn't even know what to call him. 

"Derek had business to take care of. He said he'd be back -" he didn't actually tell when he was going to be back. He'd only told me not to leave and that to remember I belonged to. "Back later. And that I couldn't . . . well you know." I say as the sound of a motorcycle driving down the street came from outside. 

I hear her sigh before she speaks. "It's us. I'm sure it'll be fine. Just message him, okay? We'll see you in an hour and a bit."

Letting a deep sigh. Bringing my phone down to my lap I raise my hand up and rest my head in my hand. I was ready to set myself into a deep session of overthinking. But when I had pushed back against the back of the chair a figure outside at the front. Moving the closer towards the window, a feeling of my lungs collapsing rocked through me. 

Rushing out of my room, down the stairs, and out the front door. I take the stone steps down to the paved driveway and head towards the man in the black leather jacket, leaning up against his motorcycle. 

"What are you doing here?" I ask when I stop in front of him.

"You wouldn't listen to me over the phone, so I had to come in person." Scott says, matter-of-factly. 

"Scott. You can't be here!" My head jerks from side to side. I didn't know when he would, but any minute Derek could come back. And he couldn't see Scott. I don't know what would happen, but I just couldn't let it happen. "You have to leave."

He didn't move from where he was leaning against his bike. Instead Scott turned his gaze from me and towards the house . . . my house behind me. "Is that what you want?" Scott asks, nodding his head towards my house - returning his gaze back to me. "I can give that to you. Come with me. I can get you away from this monster."

I don't know . . . hate me all you want, but I shake my head. I know what I feel . . . I don't know what I feel or should. It's confusing. I know it is. But fuck it. Lydia had asked me if I was going to be the one to fix the broken pieces. I think - I think I will be. "Leave Scott."

"He's brainwashed you, huh?" Scott's voice sounds almost like a growl as he snarls at his own words. "I'll help you. I'm going to help you."

"Scott, just leave-"

Scott suddenly moves forward; his hand coming up and cupping the side of my face. I step backwards at his movements, but Scott steps with me; keeping his hand on my cheek. "I helped you before. I made you run. I can do it again."

Before I could open my mouth, to tell him leave again - because no other fucking words would come out of my mouth - his hand left my cheek and he walked back to his bike. Starting the engine with a roar. Pulling on his helmet, pulling down the visor, he turns his head to face me once more before he takes off down the road. 

Watching as he ride down the street, growing smaller in the distance, the thought hits me. Did I make the mistake by telling Derek it was Dash on the phone. My head was packed to the brim already with everything else . . . should I have told Derek it was Scott?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is to come in Part THREE:
> 
> Stiles has a lie to un tell - Brett and Liam have started something they can't turn back from; something that may lead them to trouble - familiar faces will return with shocking information - someone who is not wanted will not go away - and the breaking point is coming. 
> 
> :)


	27. Chapter TWENTY-SEVEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all like the Rich Text. But if you don't I can change it back to the normal text :)

 

 

 

**\- STILES POV -**

 

 

 

 

 

**WHERE ARE YOU?**

I had received the message moments before Jordan's phone rang.

     "Stiles is with me and Lydia." Jordan's voice echoed through the empty foyer. After Scott had left me standing on my driveway, Lydia and Jordan and arrived thirty minutes later. My head had been flooded; too flooded to message Derek that I was going to be with Lydia and Jordan.

     "2926 Williamson Court." Jordan spoke again. "Five streets away from yours. Near the park me, you, and Lydia would hang out after the school."

     I know it was stupid of me to feel the jealousy I felt whenever I heard about Derek and Jordan's friendship.

     But I did, even after everything. I still felt that pit of jealously. It was me and Derek who're the best friends, who did everything together. Until he - I . . . until we ruined it. 

     It wasn't my fault, but it wasn't not not my fault. Knowing now what was wrong with Derek . . . you could blame him, I could blame him. Call him a monster. But that's too easy. This is too complicated; too messy; too hard to just point fingers at who has done wrong. 

     "Alright, see you then." Jordan interrupts my thoughts; speaking again. Pocketing his phone, both Lydia and him turn their gazes towards me. Lydia's mouth opens, ready to say something but Grey comes forward and speaks before her. 

     Tugging on the side of my jeans, Grey stares up at me. His darkening orange hair, a mess of curls on top of his head. A large dinosaur was printed on the front of his hoodie. 

     "Uncle Stiles, do you wanna see my new room?" 

     A smile stretches across my face at hearing the name he'd given me a few weeks ago. I look up to Lydia to see if it was okay if her, seeing her smiler herself and nod. "Sure do."

     With that Grey took off towards the stairs, dragging me along with him, and up to the carpeted hallway that took off in both directions. Turning to his right, I followed him to the second door on the left and push open the white coloured door. 

     The room was a large square shape with a view of the large backyard. The walls were a painted light brown with the matching cream carpet from the hallway. 

     Flopping onto the floor, Grey does what he always whenever we were alone, and flops to the ground and pulls out a handful of dinosaurs from his pocket. He really liked dinosaurs... 

     Smiling when he holds up a dinosaur for me, to join in with him. I fall down to my knees in front him and start to play.

     It was only a handful of minutes before Grey dropped the dinosaur and shot up and ran towards the door. "Uncle Derek!" Grey exclaims. 

     Turning around on my legs I watch as Derek kneels down and embraces Grey. "Hey buddy." Derek says to Grey, smiling at him. A smile I haven't seen in days. Each day Derek would have looked and smiled at me. He didn't think I saw him when he smiled and looked. But did . . .

     Hard green eyes meet mine over Grey's shoulder, that don't break contact even when the embrace ends. 

     Standing up to his full height, his eyes still locked with mine. "Your mommy wants to speak with you downstairs. She said there's talks of you getting ice cream."

     Without a second thought Grey took off out of the room leaving me alone with Derek.

     Silence reigned between us for a few moments before Derek broke it. "I told you to stay at the house." The hard tone in his voice was easily heard.

     Pushing up from my feet until I stand, I throw my hand slightly up from my side, in a gesturing motion. "I just went with Lydia and Jordan. I didn't -"

     "Run?" Derek questions; his features changing from the hard look he wore to entirely different one I wasn't familiar with. "Well you've been talking to that douche bag again . . . you could runoff again." Derek said. His expression, the tone of his voice, it was all too different; turning on his heal and walked away from the room. 

     So many years filled with pain, so many filled with anger, but I know what I feel. You call call it Stockholm Syndrome or whatever. I had tried to sink what I felt, what I always felt, in a sea of pain, tears, and anger. But it was only a matter of time before it would rise up back to the surface.

     This time with Derek, living with him and Brett, with Lydia and Jordan . . . to be the one who fixes the broken pieces, I know what I had to do even though what I had to do will cause pain. 

 

 

 

 

 

**\- BRETT POV -**

 

 

 

 

 

Earlier in the day I had thought it had been bad with Liam.

     But it was nothing compared to the rest of the day. 

     After what had happened in the bathroom Liam had avoided me all day. Whenever we shared our classes his face would stare down at his desk with a frown.

     Even after school . . . there hadn't been a day that me and Liam had not walked home from school together. But today I had made my way back home alone.

     Finding the house empty I head up to my room, throw my back down, kick my chair that sat near the window, and then collapse on it.

     It was another thirty minutes of silent overthinking before I couldn't take it any longer. I had to speak to him. Even if nothing came from it, even if I had push what I wanted - what I felt, I would. His friendship meant too much.

     Knowing he had come home before I had, I pushed up from where I sat and to the open window, I swing myself over and step onto the thick tree branch. Rounding the large centre trunk of the tree that joined our two rooms, I step up to Liam's branch and walk towards his window. Only to come to a complete stop when I see into his room.

     Liam's naked back faced from where I looked in, with an equally naked Hayden on all fours in front of him. Just as what I was seeing processed in my mind, Liam threw himself away. "Fuck!" His shout could be heard through the window.

     Liam shoved his head into his arms from where he sat on the edge of the bed. Hayden, who had already hopped up from the bed, already half way dressed, said something to Liam I couldn't hear with a shake of her head and then walked out. 

     I should turn around and head back to my room. This, watching through windows, isn't me. I know I needed to turn around but I stood there frozen. Watching as Liam gripped the sides of his hair. The spell was broken when I heard the front door to Liam's house slam shut and Hayden's voice speaking, most likely into her phone. 

     My head stay turned towards the front of the house until I could no longer hear her voice, before turning back to towards the window only to have the air sucked from my lungs. Wide blue eyes stare back at me.

     While I had focused my attention on Hayden, Liam had looked my way and saw me standing outside his window. 

     Finally then I do what I should have done a minute or so ago. I turn around - well I take off back towards my window, until I am back in my room, sitting on my bed. It surprising that I didn't fall when I had just ran across the branches.

     I had barely had a minute for my brain to wrap around what had just happened before Liam dropped down through the window.

     Though my mind was flooded with . . . well everything. Looking at him; what he had thrown on caused a strong reaction in me. The odd patterned - coloured shirt hung from his shoulders, his muscled chest and stomach glistened with sweat and a pair a black cotton boxers. 

    "What - what'd you see?" Liam asks from where he stood.

     My eyes not meeting his, but rather the light dusting of chest hair. He knew I saw him and Hayden; no point in lying. "You and . . . you and Hayden on the bed-"

     Liam letting out a sound interrupting my words, bringing up his hand to rub down his face, a groaning noise leaving his mouth again. Liam suddenly jerks it back down to stare at me with a look I have never seen on him.

     "This is your fault." Liam shouts at me. "It's your fault I couldn't get it up and have sex with my girlfriend. That all I think about you; your body; your lips; you . . ."

     "What? . . . my mouth, what?" With Liam yelling at me mixed with what he had just told me my mouth could only release those three stumbling words. "What-" I try my words again but stop when Liam starts forward. I've never expected Liam to ever hurt me, but how he was now, coming towards me I expected pain.

     But what I got was a complete opposite.

     For the second time today Liam's lips slammed onto mine.

     My hands coming up, I gripped tight on the open sides of his shirt and pull him in close. His boxer clad thighs now straddled my own thighs. Liam's hands were on my body. His right had lowered and pushed up underneath my shirt, so now I could feel the warmth of his hand on my stomach. His left at my neck. 

     His lips, his hands, Liam in general being with me like this had been in my dreams for some time now. But when his hips pushed into mine, feeling his obvious reaction towards what was happening. Hating myself for this, I pulled away. 

     "Liam.." I start, breathing deep.

     "You - your body, you make me feel . . . Fuck it, Brett. I couldn't get it up with Hayden. But just kissing you . . . feel it." He grinds his hips down into me, pushing his hard on into my thigh. "Just kissing you made me so hard."

     "You're straight."  _THAT_ was what came from my mouth. Having the person I love in my lap, red lips from kissing  _my_ lips, with a hard on, I say that. 

     Letting out a frustrated sound, Liam clenched his eyes shut but didn't move from where he was. "I know. I know I am, but . . . look," Liam opens his eyes then, staring into mine. "I, uh - Hayden. I do like her. She's my girlfriend. But you. Kissing you, being with you like this . . . just hanging around you feels. I dunno. I feels good."

     The slamming sound of the front door echoed throughout the house, causing Liam to fly off from me. "We have to talk about this." I say, finally finding my right words; readjusting how I sat so my hard on wasn't as uncomfortable. I can't help it when they fall but when they do my eyes drop down to the tent protruding from his boxers. 

     "Yeah . . . yeah." Liam nods, his eyes trained on my door. The sounds of footsteps coming from the hallway. "I'll - I'll see you in the morning?"

     "Yeah." He throws me one of his smiles, this one showing no teeth. But still causing the same reaction. Before turning on his heal and stepping up and over the window, and across to his window.

     Watching as he go; until he rounded the centre trunk, I fall back onto my bed. My mind running a thousand miles per second, but even that couldn't stop the smile and the breath of laughter that came from me.

 

 

 

 

 

**\- STILES POV -**

 

 

 

 

 

In his sleep, Derek had wrapped his arm around me, but as soon as he woke he pulled it away and walked towards the bathroom.

     With minimal light coming in through the windows, I push back the covers in only my pyjama pants, I throw on the first shirt I pull from the dresser. Yesterday I had made the decision on what I wanted, and what I had to do.

     It was fifteen minutes later, ten since the shower had shut off, before the door to the bathroom opened. 

     Sitting on the edge of the bed I watch Derek emerge from the bathroom. The low light showing that he wore a light blue short sleeved Henley shirt, with dark sweatpants. 

     I don't give Derek a chance, I hop up from the bed and walk over to him. Stopping his movement. 

     Looking down at me with an expressionless face, he doesn't say a word, he just tries to move around me. But I don't let him. I shove his chest back. 

     A surprised look took ahold of his features as he stumbles back. 

     "What are you doing?" Derek exclaims, his voice slightly loud.

     I don't answer his question. I put my full strength into my shoulders and shove Derek back again until the back of his legs hit the mattress and he falls back.

     I don't give him time to respond. I climb on top of him; my hands grabbing his hand and bring them up so they both sat beside his head.

     I slam my lips down onto his, feeling the scratch of his stubble on my face. As I feel Derek lean up to my kiss, I pull my lips away.

     "You're going to listen to me, Derek. You're going to listen now." I say, which brings his attention out of the blissed out mode from the kiss. I am quick to start again before Derek tries to push me off of him. "I am not going to leave. I'm not going to run." I see as his mouth starts to open. "No, I'm talking right now, Derek. I'm done fighting it. I really am. I'm done with the power play; of who has the power over who. I just -"

     Letting out a sigh, I close my eyes for a moment before opening them back up to see that Derek was staring up at me with full focus.

     "You drive me insane. And yet I can't get away from you; out of my head. But I don't think I want to . . . You're like a trigger for me, how I'm like a trigger for you." Shaking my head, another sigh leaving my mouth. I lean forward and take his mouth again.

     The same reaction as before, Derek losing himself before he starts to push up again when I remove my mouth. Having this reaction on somebody, being able to do this to someone - on Derek, it made it more clear what I felt for him. 

     "You told me back in L.A., standing in front of the painted tree in your office. I have never said it to you. It was masked by all the pain and wanted hatred for you. As messed up as it is, I don't think it went away even after the three years during high school. I had buried it for five years . . . ah, for fucks sake, Derek. I love you." I push out those words; feeling Derek's large frame underneath me tense up.

     "But it needs to stop, Derek. The power play. I know you haven't been keeping up with your appointments with Alan. You better be taking -" I am suddenly rolled over onto my back, with Derek above me.

     "Say those words again."

     "I love you. But you -" His mouth slams on to mine in a rough, hard kiss. The scratching that was usually felt from his stubble turned into rough scratches. I pull my lips up and away from his; Derek's mouth falling down to my neck. Every day it had been filled with this, Derek's body and mouth. Until recently, and to have the feeling again. All my thoughts were leaving my brain. No, what I had to say had to be said. 

     Derek's mouth now at my collarbone, I let the words come out in a rush. "It wasn't Dash who was on the phone. It was Scott." The feeling of Derek's large frame above me tensed; his mouth stopped what it was doing at my collarbone. A harsh breath of air came from Derek. 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this might be seen as a "light" chapter. But little do you all know I've set things in place. Chapter 28 will be a large chapter. A lot with happen it and the chapter will end with a cliff hanger >;)


	28. Chapter TWENTY-EIGHT

 

 

 

**\- STILES POV -**

 

 

 

 

 

"I'm going to kill him." Derek says in a low but deep growl, before throwing himself off of me to stand up and start to pace along side the bed. "I'm going to fucking kill him!" His voice now becoming louder.

     "Derek." I say, sitting up so I could stare up at him. Staring up at him, a Derek I had never wanted to see again.  _What the fuck have I done?_ "Calm down."

     "Calm down?" Derek then turned to face me. The early morning sun that shinned through the window illuminated his rage induced face. " **CALM DOWN**?" Derek then roared. 

     I don't let this go as it has always went. Not anymore. Not that I finally know what I felt - I didn't understand it, but I know I felt it. I reach toward his hand, grasp it, and pull him hard. Until he starts to fall forward. 

     I don't know how I managed it, but as he fell forward towards me I maneuverer him so that he falls to his side. That's when I give his shoulder a shove so that he rolls onto his back. I then straddle him, locking his head in between my arms. 

     All of that happened so fast that Derek only realised what was happening when I was on top of him.

     Before he could react to what had just happened, I slam my mouth onto his. Pulling his bottom lip into my mouth and bitting down on it. I feel the prickle of his stubble when Derek pushes up into the kiss. I then immediately pull my mouth away. 

     "I  **DONT** want to talk to him. I've told him that."

     The eyes that stared up at me, the heated eyes from the kiss instantly darkened back to it's angered colour. But I wasn't going to let it happen. "If he ever calls you again. I'll -"

     I silence him again by slamming my mouth onto his in a rough kiss. With the same result; Derek reacting to the kiss; pushing himself up into it. Again, I pull away when I feel the anger in his muscles loosen. 

     "Stop doing that." Derek growls out. 

     "Calm down and I will."

     The battle on his face came fast as soon as the words left my mouth. Like the time I had watched his face in Alan Deaton's office. Like he was fighting his own thoughts. I hated it, I did. I didn't want this. I just want . . . I just fucking want everything to be normal. I just wanted my best friend back. I know what I feel now. I knew I couldn't run from it any longer. Even after everything. I just . . .  _Why can't anything just be easy?_

"You're not his. You're mine." Hearing the possessiveness I was all too familiar with in his growl.

     Hearing those words, I knew how this would go. But before anymore words could be spoken, I press my lips against his once again. This time with less force.

      _I love him._ I knew that. It wasn't easy. It was hard. No more denying. No more running. I'm done. I  _know_ my best friend is in there. Buried underneath the broken pieces of my tormentor. 

     Lydia had asked me if I was going to be the one to repair the broken pieces. Raising my lips up from his, I look down into his darkened green eyes as my hand lowers down to his belt buckle. 

     It was a handful of minutes later when I was straddling his waist with Derek inside of me. The prickle of his dark stubble scratched along the palms of my hand as I held onto his jaw. Staring down into his eyes. 

     Like a broken records, I tell myself what I know. 

_He's in there. My best friend is in there._

     The words don't leave my mouth but they must be seen in my eyes. The contact between our eyes hadn't broken since I had begun to ride him. It wasn't rough. It wasn't hard. It was just us staring into each others eyes. 

     Forgiveness was still something to come. It would be hard. To forgive what happened . . . but I love him. Even through the times that had been filled with pain and tears, I loved him. 

      _Fuck,_ I don't think I ever stopped loving Derek. Even through everything.

     I'm sure that would be deemed as messed up. But . . . fuck it. Like I had said. I was done running. I was done burying and hiding from what I know.

     Gripping tight one his stubbled jaw, I let out a groan as my climax comes to me; eye contact staying strong.

     "Tell me again." Derek spoke in a low growl through clenched teeth.

     "I love you." As the words leave my mouth the veins in his neck pulled tight; teeth clenched shut; my name being ripped out from him in a yell as he reached his climax.

     The morning sun was now screaming in full voice through the window now. We'd laid on the bed for about fifteen minutes now. Derek had spent the entire time with his face buried in where my neck meets my shoulder. 

     If the sound of the shower turning on in the bathroom upstairs hadn't been heard I don't know when we would've moved from where we laid. 

     "I love you too." Derek responds to my 'I love you' I said fifteen minutes. Pressing his lips to mine before he rests his head against my own. Closing his eyes; releasing a light warm breath.

 

 

 

 

 

Placing the plate with chocolate Pop-Tarts on the granite breakfast bar in front of Brett, who'd began to devour them immediately. 

     With the final one in the toaster, I walk over. "Walking with Liam today?" Already knowing the answer to the question. 

     "Yeah." Brett says; noticing the the happy smile that comes to him.

     "Lydia messaged me thirty minutes ago asking -  _saying_ that she was coming around later today. Do you want us to drive you back home?"

     "Sure. That'd be cool." 

     I give him a smile before turning back to the toaster. A ready plate next to the stainless steel toaster. "Morning Derek." I hear behind me, with the sound of bare feet stepping across the titled floor, when my Pop-Tart was done.

     I hear Derek say good morning to Brett as my Pop-Tart rises upward. 

     But before I could grab it and put it on my plate, large arms wrap around my waist and I'm suddenly lifted upwards and dropped in front of the island.

     The light blue Henley of Derek's back faced me as he reached forward and grabs the Pop-Tart. Turning to face me, a grin pulling strong on his face, he raises the Pop-Tart up and takes a large bite out of it. The grin holding strong on his face.

     Narrowing my eyes. "That was the last one."

     "Yeah, but you love me so you're willing to give me the final one." Grinning; taking another bite.

     Continuing my narrowing eyes on Derek, "Brett, you're next to the knives. Hand one over would you please?"

     Hearing his laugh come from behind me, then the moving nose of his backpack. "I would help, but I have to go meet Liam now. I'll see you and Lydia after school."

     "See you then." I say, keeping my narrowing stare with Derek.

     The silence reigned between us until the noise of the front door closing shut echoed. "You and Lydia after school?" Derek questioned, mimicking Brett's words. 

     "Yeah. Lydia's coming over later. Though we could pick Brett and Liam up." I see the grin falter and his eyes slightly harden. Knowing what he was like with me leaving the house without him - thinking I'd leave. Changing the subject. "That was the last Pop-Tart." I say again.

     Breaking off a chuck on the bottom, Derek hands it over to me. I take it immediately and eat it. Derek's mouth then lands on top of mine in a hard kiss. Though it wasn't rough but it was had. Like he was forcing something with his kiss.

     The rest of the day, when I wasn't drawing, I had spent with Derek. 

     Cliché sounding, but it was . . . I don't know. It just seemed  _lighter_ now.

     There had been a few times today when I felt his body tense and his face would harden - knowing what was on his mind. He'd left once after one of those times, but had returned a minute later. When it had been nearing when Lydia was coming around, Derek and I had been in the beanbags in the living room. Like how it had been all those years ago: Derek in the red, me in the blue. 

     When the fast knocking came on the front door. Lydia's impatient knock. Derek said something that made my movements of getting off the beanbag pause. "I think we should adopt a baby."

 

 

 

 

 

**\- BRETT POV -**

 

 

 

 

 

I wanted to stop, I needed to stop.

     Meet Liam in the morning, he'd gone right into it. Telling me he didn't know what he felt with me but that he wanted it. Saying everything that I had only dreamt about. Saying, before I could even get my own words in, that he would talk to Hayden.

     That's how I wanted it, how it should've been. That we stop what we're doing until Liam spoke to Hayden.

     That's how it was for most of the day. 

     Even when in the morning all I wanted to do is kiss him after hear his words.

     Even when I saw him in his burgundy shirt and dark jeans and all I wanted to do is feel his muscled body underneath.

     Even when we walked into the school and Hayden came to us, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Liam had look over her shoulder to me, giving me a look I didn't know. I just wanted to pull him away from her, and take his mouth. Telling everyone that he was mine.

     We should've waited for Liam to talk to Hayden. 

     But we didn't . . . 

     Back in the bathroom where we'd first kissed, the furthest stall from the door, I had Liam pushed up against the wall. His burgundy shirt unbuttoned and hanging from his shoulders. My lips were trailing down his pecs and muscled stomach. Taking my time over each muscled ab, kissing, sucking, and even biting them. 

     When it came to Liam I had a problem.

     Now that I have him here. With me. Being with me - wanting me. I couldn't control myself. 

     My lips and knees dropped down further. Until my knees were against the cool floor and lips at his tanned navel. When my bottom lip reached the coldness of his belt buckle, I look up at him. 

     His mouth was in an  _O_ shape as his head was in a nodding motion. "Do it." He whispered, which echoed through the toilet stall. 

     I then reach up for his belt buckle, pulling it open as quiet as I could. I know this isn't where this should happen; doing this at school . . . but I couldn't help myself. I had felt been this way about anyone before. Not ever . . . 

     With his belt buckle undone, along with his button and his zip unzipped, I stare at the protruding tent through his plaid boxers. I raise my hand and wrap my hand around the shaft through the boxers. 

     A gasp coming from both of us, I push forward with my hand and then pull back. Jerking him. Causing him to throw his head back. I could feel my own hardness pressing against my jeans. 

     Slow. It had to be taken slow. I know it had to been . . . but I couldn't. 

     My head came forward and I wrapped my mouth around the head of his tent. 

     A loud groan then escaped from his mouth, his hands gripping tight on my shoulders. I wanted to hear it again. I wanted to go further. But I came to a full stop when the screech of the door came along with voices. 

     I raise up instantly, towering over Liam. My hands land onto his shoulders, grasping his burgundy shirt. 

     We stay like that until the voices and the water comes to a halt, until the screech of the door came again.

     "Fuck." I breathe out, releasing my tensed muscles. "Sorry. I just couldn't help myself-"

     My words were silenced when his hand reached up and grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me towards him; his mouth smashing against mine. My hands, that were grasped at his shoulders feel down to his chest, where I gripped his muscled pecs.

      "Don't be." Liam said through a gasp when he released my lips, still gripping the back of my neck tight. "I'm going to speak to Hayden . . . I was walking to Hayden to talk with her, but someone jumped and discreetly pulled me into the bathroom." 

     A laugh escapes from me then, taking his lips in a kiss that turned hard. 

     Unlocking the door I start to pull it open, looking over my shoulder at Liam. Who'd start to button up his shirt. I couldn't help the smile that came to me when looking at him. Like an idiot I had fallen for my best friend. The only source of happiness I had after my . . . what happened to my Mom. I could've lost him. But somehow, my straight best friend now wanted  _me_. 

     Halfway through buttoning up his shirt, Liam looked up and met my smile with his own.

     Walking out with Liam behind me comes to a complete stop. I feel as if my lungs fell from my body. Standing ahead of us, staring right at us with a shocked crossed frowned expression on his face; Garrett was there.

 

 

 

 

 

** \- STILES POV - **

 

 

 

 

 

"Do you want to?" Lydia asks from the passenger seat; parked in the car park of Beacon Hills High School.

     Running a hand down my face, resting my elbow on the side of the driver's side door. "I . . . I don't know. I  _just_ figured out what I feel, and how to say it; not to run from it. Adopting now . . . I dunno." I let out a sigh. "What do you think?" I ask as the bell from the school sounded.

     ". . . You like having Brett around don't you?" She asks. I nod at her question because I do. "I can see that you think you're not ready for it. But I think you are. Derek's always been amazing with Grey. So have you. You forget that I'm very clever -" 

     I frown at her as her words fall short. I wait for her to start up again, but it didn't come. She just stared out the windshield.

     Turning my head to face what she was, I don't think when I unbuckle the seatbelt and push open the door. 

     Brett and Liam were walking towards the car park. But that wasn't what had me heading towards them. It was the four - five, I don't really care how much, others who were following them. 

     A blonde haired one was shoving both Brett and Liam - Liam shoving back back but Brett kept pulling him back. A girl with long brown hair and a square jaw, the girl I'd seen Liam with sometimes, was there too. Laughing as the blonde guy kept shoving Brett and Liam and yelling insults I haven't heard in over five years.

     The moment Brett catches my gaze I'm there, moving in between and shoving the blonde's hands away. 

     "Stiles..."

     "Get the fuck away from my son." I say. Staring down into the little prick. 

     The words surprised me. They weren't what I thought I was going to say. It was wrong, wasn't it? Saying that he was  _my_ son after his Mom died . . . I'll apologise later. But now . . . now I needed this little fuck to fuck off.

     The blonde haired kid looked me up and down. I wasn't all that intimidating. Not like how Derek was, but something on my face must speak it all. Because the smirk on the little fucks face fell. 

     A snort then came from him before he pushes up his chin and walks away.

     The girl with the brown hair walked off with him, along with the others, staring back over her shoulder. Glaring at Liam. 

     Slamming the door behind me, two others slam after my own. Starting the car I pull out of the car park and drive off. I'm about to ask what was all that about when Lydia beat me to it, pulling the words out from my mouth. 

     "What was all that about?" Lydia asks, turning in her seat to face Brett and Liam, placing her right hand on her stomach.

     They're quiet for a few seconds before Brett spoke. "Garrett, the one who was pushing us-" I could see Liam visibly stiffen in anger through the rearview mirror, "he . . . he-uh, he caught Liam and I in the bathroom-"

     "The school bathroom?..." Lydia questions. 

     "Yeah." Brett says in a quiet tone. "He saw me and Liam walk out together -"

     But before Brett could continue, Lydia's voice spoke. An angered - annoyed tone in her voice. "So fucking what? It's Two-Thousand and fucking Twenty. It shouldn't matter anymore - it doesn't matter anymore. You two, don't worry about it. The ones who have a problem with it come from countless generations of inbreeding."

     A small laugh comes from behind me as I pull up into the driveway of the house. A laugh I could tell wasn't real. 

     "Brett." I say over the roof of the car when we step out. Walking around, past Lydia, to him. "I'm sorry for what I said before; calling you my son."

     I didn't know what to expect from Brett, with me calling him my son. I didn't know if he would be angry at it . . . Brett smiled, looking down at me - breaching Derek's height - and said. "Thanks Stiles... for everything." The smile on my face breaks out to match his own. 

     Though I had wanted to continue to talk with him, Brett left with Liam to his house. Walking in with Lydia, I don't know. Something just clicked. Were me and Derek ready? Probably not. Everything was still too  _fragile?_ But I knew what I felt. Lydia was right . . . and I wasn't running from my feelings, no matter the pain that came before it. 

     Walking up to Derek, who'd been coming down the stairs, I come to a halt directly in front of him. "Let's adopt."

 

 

 

 

 

This was new.

     All of this was new. I mean, yeah, things had been good since moving in here. But after I had finally stopped running and admitted to my feelings, everything became  _better._

     Sure, my memory will always have the times when the man I loved was my tormentor, when I remember the pain and tears. I knew he was trying. The appointments with Alan Deaton had started up again. Derek and I would sit in his office for an a hour, on video call with Alan. 

     It wasn't easy. It won't be easy. Call me messed up. Tell me I have Stockholm Syndrome. But I'm here now. Working through it. 

     It had been three days since Derek have dropped the ball about wanting to adopt a baby and he had worked fast. He was on the phone the moment the words left my mouth - I assume talking with Boyd, who arranged everything for him. Which includes driving to Odessa to find me . . .

     I'd expected the worst for when Brett and Liam the day after Lydia and I had picked him up. Not that I understood why . . . Lydia was right. It was Two-Thousand and fucking Twenty, for Christ's sake. 

     I'd been ready to jump out of the car again as soon as the bell signalled the end of the day. But in stead of seeing a repeat of yesterday, I saw Brett giving Liam a headlock while the friends Brett had described where there too. The blonde haired fuck was walking out too, but avoiding them; taking off in the opposite direction of Brett and Liam. 

      _That's right,_ I had thought to myself,  _fuck off._

     "I'll be back in a few hours." Derek said, coming down the stairs, dressed in a suit. Dark navy jacket with matching pants, a crisp white shirt, and a dark red tie. Pocketing his phone, he walked over to where I was sitting at my drawing desk, leaned down and kissed me. "You will be here when I get back?" Looking down at me, I could still see it. The worry that I will leave. The possessiveness of wanting to keep me locked up. 

     "I'll be here." I say, smiling up at him to reassure him. What flashes through him, the worry and possessiveness isn't healthy. I know this. But it's progress. And I'm not walking away again. 

     Leaning down again he kisses me once more. Feeling the prick of his stubble. Before he walks away, towards the door. 

     Right then I remember the decision I'd come to earlier in the morning. Rather than waiting 'till when Derek comes back home.  "A girl."

     Derek comes to an instant stop. Turning so that he now faced me. "Girl?" He repeats my word.

     "A girl." I smile, confirming his question. A smile, that shoved me back to the years we shared hours upon hours in each others bedrooms, came to Derek. Matching my own. 

     It was thirty - forty minutes later, when I was almost finished with my drawing; my fingers and palms painted with lead, when a serious amount of hard knocks came from the front door. 

     Standing up from my desk, frowning at the door, I walk over as another serious of hard knocks came again. Pulling it open, my frown growing strong - only to have to fall when I come face to face with Scott.

     "Scott, what are you doing here?"

     Not answering me, Scott comes forward and steps past the door. 

     "Scott." I say again, this time with more force.

     "This is what made you choose  _him_?" He said, looking around at my home. "I could've given you this Stiles. I could've given you this and more! But no." He then starts forward towards me. "You choose to stay with the fuck who abused you and raped you." 

     "Get out." It's less than what I want to say.

     "Why can't you feel it?" Scott comes in closer. "It was there when we first met five years ago. It was there when you left that day, and it was there when I saw you again. There's a connection between us Stiles. You're just blinded by Derek-" 

     Shoving past him, turning my back to him I was towards the door. Anger reigning through my voice. "Scott. Leave. Don't fucking come back-" 

     The sentence I was speaking falls short when Scott's hand grabs ahold of the back of my head and slams me into the edge of the door. Pain radiates through me before darkness falls upon me. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two more chapters left! 
> 
> Sorry this took awhile, I'm working on some artwork for the final chapter :)
> 
> I want to thank each and every one of you who have read and supported this story from the beginning to this point. Love you guys <3 || sorry for the cliffhanger guys ;) but A LOT will be spoken about next chapter - I hope that makes sense. If not, you'll just have to wait and see what I mean >:D


	29. Chapter TWENTY-NINE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter... it's small. But I just wanted it to be Stiles and his feelings; feelings with Derek and the past. The next chapter will be bigger with the other characters ╰(◕ᗜ◕)╯
> 
> I'll admit this chapter isn't one of my bests, I had more I wanted to add to it. But I'm moving, and that's taking a lot out of me. What I wanted to add into this will be in the next. Hope you all still like it :) <3

 

 

 

 

 

**STILES POV**

 

 

 

 

 

_The giggling exclaims escapes from my mouth as I was thrown back onto the mattress._

_Derek flops down beside me. The bright orange of his Monster Truck teeshirt stood out against the dark blue of his bedsheets. Like every other day me and Derek spent the day playing in each other's rooms; crossing the tree to each other's rooms._

_A lot of the time it was spent like this, when Derek would cast me one of his closed lipped smiles. Which would cause me to smile wide back in response._

_"We'll be friends forever." Derek says, shooting up from where he laid to sit Indian style. "No matter what!" Derek exclaims brightly._

_"Of course!" I had said back. Matching his loud exclaim._

_That had been what we did, unintentionally. We were always loud._

_"I have an awesome idea." Derek jumps up from the bed, towards his desks and comes back with a black marker. He takes ahold of my right hand and draws a **D** on the webbing between my thumb and index finger. He then hands it to me for me to draw not only an  **S** but an  **M**  to go along with it. A name that I hadn't gone by since before Grade One. "You're my best friend. Forever."_

_Those words lingered in the air as the scene changed. The walls became black and began to drip like rain. Scenes from further into the future flashed around me, of Derek and I's friendship growing until that night I had my first kiss. The Derek before me vanished into the air._

_Like a rapid flashing light, Derek in front of me came in flickers._

_S_ _eeing the hatred when he would stare at me._

_The smirk when he would torment me._

_T_ _he possessive look he wore whenever he had taken me by force._

_The anger when he had walked into bathroom when Scott had kissed me._

_It all flashed before me right to the moment I told Derek that I loved him._

_The walls were still dark and dripping, but there were now growing patches of light; of the existing walls behind the darkness. Through the darkness, on the light patches of wall, faces of those who were in my life. Lydia, Jordan, Grey, and Brett. My_ family.

_"I'm sorry."_

 

 

 

 

 

My eyes open, feeling the rough wave of pain come in strong. 

     It radiated from head; my hairline. 

     Meeting the wave of pain, confusion sets in place. Why was I asleep? Why was I on the lounge in the living room? Why does my head hurt? . . . What happened? The questions flood through me, but are quickly drained as I remember.

     Jerking up from where I laid, "I'm sorry." the words speak from my right. Where Scott was up against the wall. With a sorrow look painted across his face. "I - I didn't mean to, Stiles. You just wouldn't listen. And you had to listen. I can get you away. I can -"

     "Scott. Leave." I say. Irritation from the pain showing in my voice, pushing up from where I laid. 

     "No. Not until you come with me. I can get you away, Stiles." He comes forward, towards me. "I know you want to get away from him."

     The irritation was now peaking higher, threatening to breach over the edge. "No, Scott. I don't want to get away from him." I say, with pure honesty. 

     "How?" Scott's voice shouts, taking a large step towards me. "How can you want to stay with that monster? How can you act like he's this perfect guy who can give you all of this," he gestures his hand around at  _my_ home, "how can you love a monster like him?" He spits out the word love.

     "Because you don't love someone because they're  _perfect._ " I surprise myself when the words left my mouth without thought. "You love them in spite of the fact that they are not." The quote I can read long ago was pulled out from my mouth. Though it was from somewhere else. It spoke the full truth.

     The words to tell Scott to leave again form on my mouth, but they never left. Because right at that moment the front door is pushed opened. Derek stands there, his right hand on the door handle and his eyes trained on Scott. On me. On  _us._

Everything then happened as fast as a lightening strike. 

     With a darkened look in his eyes, Derek jerks forward in a rush. Heading right towards Scott. I beat Derek to it and stand it front of Scott, bringing up my hand to stop Derek; my palm pressing against his chest. 

     "Derek. Stop, stop, stop, stop." I say, putting all my strength into halting him. By some miracle the words pushed through and stopped Derek. When his eyes dropped down to me, eyes already hated with anger grew darker when he looks to my hairline. Where the pain was radiating from. Turning away from his heated stare, feeling him tense underneath my palm. "Scott. Leave now. Just leave before somethin-," sigh; stopping my words, "You helped me once when I needed to run. But now? I don't need your help. I'm . . . happy, Scott. I truly am. This is my home. My family. This is my life."

     He looks about to open his mouth and argue what I just said, to continue to say that I have to come with him. But feeling Derek's shaking, tense body behind me, I beat him to it. "Just leave, Scott."

     Thankfully he listened to me this time. His fallen face leaves mine to raise up at Derek as he walks around me and Derek. I follow behind him to keep Derek behind me. Opening the door, Scott looks back at me before looking over my shoulder towards Derek with blatant hate in his eyes, before walking out. Walking out  _for good._

    The moment the door closes Derek has my chin in his grip and turns me towards him.

     His darkened eyes first meet my own before looking back up to my hairline. "Derek?" I say, but receive no spoken answer but Derek turning on his heel and taking ahold of my arm. Walking us towards the downstairs bathroom.

     Shouldering off his dark navy jacket and placing it on the bathroom counter, unbuttoning the first button of his shirt, loosening the dark red tie, and rolling up his sleeves up to his elbows, Derek stops me in front of the large mirror.

     Giving me the chance to see where the pain was radiating from. From my hairline down there was a tiny gash, with dark red stained skin around it. Looking at the cut, I could feel the pain slightly increase.

     Distracted with the cut I don't pay attention to Derek until a hand towel and a bandaid is dropped beside me. Turning me on my side so that I faced him, Derek wets the hand towel and presses softly at the cut. Cleaning it. 

     "Derek?" I try again, again getting silence. Derek stops what he is doing with the towel and then opens and presses the clear bandaid to the cut. I go to try and say his name again, but I finally get a response from him. 

     His mouth presses against mine in a hard kiss. His hands coming up and gripping my neck, my shoulders, and then my arms. His mouth leaves mine, traveling down to my jaw and down to my neck. All the while feeling scratch of his stubble along my skin.

     Before I could react, Derek's mouth is pulled away from my neck and he is stepping behind me, my sweats being pulled down to rest on my thighs. My boxers coming along with them. Hearing the sound of a belt unbuckling, I try for the third time. "Derek-"

     "He was going to take you." The warm breath from his growl cascades across the back of my neck before his lips drop down to plant a rough kiss. "He was going to take you, Stiles.  _My_ Stiles. He was..."

     Derek trails off, pressing his cock into the crease, against my entrance. His right arm shoots out and presses against the mirror in front of us. The tone in his voice... a tone I have only ever heard a small handful of times . . .

     Derek, behind me, . . . I feel him shake. Not like minutes before when he shook with anger. Derek was shaking. Looking up into the mirror, seeing that he has his head dropped down, I bring my right arm up to where his is holding against the mirror, and place my right hand over his. 

_"You're my best friend. Forever."_

The dream that had came to me was also a memory. A memory I had forgotten long ago.

     "I can't again." Derek says in a broken tone. "I can't lose you again. I can't. I love you too much." I know what this was supposed to turn out. The possessiveness in him was going to  _claim me_ as his. Just like the many other times. But what happened - what I got instead. Was Derek broken. 

_Will you be the one to piece him back together?_ Lydia's words echo in my mind. 

     "Hey." I say softly. His shaking becomes less noticeable, but he kept his head downward. "Best friends, forever. Right?"

  Derek's head raises up to look at me through the mirror. Locking gazes with him before he drops it back down and leans forward into my neck. A muffled  _"Forever."_ comes a minutes later.

 

"Are you keeping up with your medication, Derek?" Alan asks, looking at Derek through the camera. 

     "Yes, I am." Derek nods next to me. 

     "Have you seen any changes?"

     As Derek talks with Alan, my mind wanders. It had been two weeks since I had told Scott to leave and never come back. Two weeks since Derek had all but broken against me. Since that day, since I told him we would be best friends forever; repeating his words of those years ago . . . sounds stupid to think  _that_ would change anything, but there were more laughs and smiles. 

     "Stiles."

     Derek's voice comes beside me. Looking towards him, he nods his head towards the screen. To Alan, who was casting me a kind smile. 

     "I'm sorry, what'd you say?"

     Alan, forever the one giving a kind smile, "That's fine. It's been some time since you and Derek started this life together. You are both guardians of Brett and have plans to adopt. You two are partners now. And negative feelings between partners can be catastrophic to the relationship. I asked you if you still feel any sort hatred towards Derek?"

      _Do I still feel hatred for Derek? Did I ever hate him?_

     For years I told myself I did. After everything he did I thought he did out of pure hatred towards me. And in a way, I do think he did. Derek did hate what I did that night, when I had my first kiss.

    The same way I hated the way he tormented me for three years. For what he did to me that night. But there was always a part of me that wanted my best friend. That wanted to kill the monster that did that things that I hated. 

     The monster . . . it was gone. Sure there the glimmers of it whenever Derek's possessiveness got too much, which would only come to the surface when we would leave the house and someone came in too close to me. Which was something we were working on. Same with me wanting to work; with the idea I had for what career I would like to pursue.  

      _Do I still feel hatred towards Derek?_

"I don't feel hatred any hatred for Derek." I say honestly. "But I feel it for all those years a torment and running. I feel more sad about it, really, than anything. I loved my best friend, you know. I never actually hated him." I say, squashing my fingers together; moving my hands around with each other. "I just hated what happened . . . back then." Derek then takes ahold of my fidgeting hands; taking my right in his left.

     Alan then nods. "Understandable. If I could ask you another question... do you see forgiveness in the foreseeable future?"

     Turning away from the screen to look at Derek. Staring into his eyes. The eyes . . . looking into the emerald like orbs. They were so much like my best friend's. But also like the ones that belonged to my tormentor. The darkness that would reside in them whenever the monster would surface has been but a distant memory. Whenever I would look over and see Derek staring at me, which was often, they were always . . .  _light._

     There was still a lot more to work through before anything could be perfect, or anywhere near perfect. But I loved him. God for fucking bid, even through all the pain and running, I was never able to shake that off. I was never able to run away from that. Judge me, look down at me, call me weak, whatever. If I could stop running from what I felt, forgiveness for those years will come.

     "It will take time. But yeah." I say, smiling up at Derek. "I can see it." Strong pressure then comes from my hand as Derek squeezes my hand in his. And just like that, as Derek stared down at me with a large close lipped smile, we were back in his room all those years ago. Like I was back with my best friend that I loved.

 

 

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

**THIS IS NOT THE FINAL CHAPTER. IT MAY SEEM LIKE IT, BUT THERE'S STILL ONE MORE LEFT ʘ ͜ʖ ʘ**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm moving houses right now and I think I threw away my notes I had for future stories ε(´סּ︵סּ`)з
> 
> The ones I can remember: 
> 
> 1) Crime family - Stiles and Derek at the top of the family with their kids. It will dive into Stiles and Derek running their illegal businesses - jobs and their family. Dive into their kids' life with crime, school, and craziness. 
> 
> 2) Derek and Stiles are both in their late thirties - Stiles' wife died; has kids, a friendship between him and Derek (who's never been in a proper relationship in his life. Only random hookups) blossoms, soon becoming something much more than friendship. Something they never thought they'd feel.
> 
> 3) - VERY DIFFERENT (Because of Civil War)... Sterek, Destiel, whatever pairing you'd want - granted I knew about them - but a whole bunch of Fandom clashing together fighting in a Civil War of sorts. I dunno... ahaha. Like I said in my top notes. Moving has taken a lot out of me and I'm rather tired. And I get . . . yeah, when I'm tired.
> 
> . . . or if any of you have an idea for a story you want, just tell me. I did get some from you guys, but I lost them and don't know which chapter it was posted on. 
> 
> Also, after the ending to this story (ONE MORE CHAPTER LEFT: THE EPILOGUE) I will be working on Captive and Mine! and the new story. The other two are on hiatus.
> 
> ໒( ☉ ͜ʖ ☉ )७


	30. EPILOUGE

 

 

 

 

 

 

**** **_16 years later..._ **

 

 

 

 

 

I throw my head back, trying to keep the groan from escaping from my mouth.

     I grip the edge of the washing machine tight to keep myself steady. It didn't matter to Derek that the house was filled with people.

     Upon walking down the stairs Derek had lead me back to the laundry room, unzipped my jeans and dropped down to his knees. 

     Raising my hand up, I cover my mouth with hand to stifle the moan as my release is shot from me.

     Even after my release Derek still knelt for a few more moments. Milking me. When Derek did push up form his knees to stand, his large hands ran up over my body; over my blue polo shirt. A polo shirt that I admit was a size or two too small; that hugged my chest, shoulders, and biceps. 

     A low, familiar sounding growl came from Derek as his hands rest on my shoulders, underneath the collar. Even after he had dragged me into the laundry room, devouring my mouth and sucking me dry, his eyes were still glazed over with lusted heat.

     "You still have no self control." I breath out, with the corner of my mouth tugging upwards. 

     "Never when it comes to you." Derek responds, leaning in closer to my neck. 

     Turning my head to the side, a small laugh comes from me; sounding more like a gasp for breath. 

     "Getting too much for you, old man?" Derek asks, with a grin.

     " _Old man?_ " I turn my head back to face him. "This coming from the forty year old..."

     "I may be forty," Derek steps in even closer, if that was possible, "but I have the libido and stamina of a twenty year old." Derek's hands begin to drop downward, as I feel myself moving myself closer to him -

     A rapid knocking on the wooden door then filled the room. Stopping when out lips were only inches apart. "Can you two hurry up?" Lydia's irritated toned voice fills the room. "I'm hungry and I don't have any issue with serving the food without you two." 

     There's a chuckle of laughs that come form Lydia's comment. I then go to move around Derek, towards the door. But Derek was quick at reaching and wrapping his arm around my waist and pressing his mouth against mine.

     It was another minute of Derek's mouth on mine, feeling the scratch of his stubble, and his large hands on my body before we were walking out of the door and down the hallway towards open living room.

     "I swear to God, if you three don't quit that out I'll poison the food." Lydia exclaims ahead of us, walking past them towards the kitchen.

     Jordan had one of his bright smiles plastered on his face, with his arm wrapped around Stefan's neck in a headlock, while Grey had Stefan's arm held behind his back.

     Sixteen years ago, Lydia had given birth to a boy, Stefan. While Grey had taken on more of Lydia's looks, with dark orange hair, Stefan was the splitting image of Jordan when he was younger. 

     Breaking apart from one another, Jordan immediately went to Lydia. Wrapping his arms around her and burring his face into her neck. A chorus of giggles then came from Lydia. Stefan turned and made his way over to the living room.

     Sitting down next to his girlfriend.

     The relationship that tied our families together.

     Almost a year after Stefan was born, Derek and I adopted Nora. Her sun-kissed skin, her piercing ice blue eyes, and her platinum-blonde hair worn long, she was as gorgeous as the day we adopted her.

    Growing up she had spent her time outside rather than inside; shirts and jeans rather than dresses. From the moment she could walk to now at sixteen years old, whenever there was a clap of thunder she would watch out the window; she would go out onto the balcony.

     Nora loved weather. She was fascinated with it. Her greatest obsession was tornados. Of course I worried when she told me and Derek of her desires to chase tornados through Tornado Alley. The movies weren't my type, but whenever a new weather disaster movie would come out, Nora and Derek were one of the first people to watch it and own it. 

     Next to Nora, Brett sat with his arm wrapped over Liam's shoulders.

     It's was crazy, and very familiar, how inseparable they became. I accidentally saw that fact one day after they had graduated high school together. I'd walked into Brett's room, seeing if there was any dirty clothes...

     . . . That'd been the deal me and Derek had made. I would suffer through the laundry and Derek would cook. Unless we would all have a dinner together. That was when Lydia controlled the kitchen . . .

     And saw Brett on his bed, on his hands and knees with Liam behind him...

     They'd gone to college together and now, over a decade later, they were building their lives together. Derek, as a gift for graduating college, had brought a gym. A gym that Brett was to manage; to build his life up.

     After three years of building the gym up and giving it a respectable reputation, Brett, with the help of Derek and Cora, turned the gym into a franchise. Brett's Gym was now in elven locations across California. Liam, who'd been one of the best lacrosse players in both high school and in college, took the job as coach for the Beacon Hills Cyclones lacrosse team. 

     "Alright, food is done." Lydia exclaims, placing a large plate with a beautiful smelling chicken atop of it. "Stef, keep your hands to yourself and come and eat. I won't be able to stop Derek if he wants to kill you."

     The prickling sensation of a beard and warm lips pressed behind my ear; a large hand running up my back. "You touching my little girl, Parrish?" Derek asks, with a jokingly growling tone. 

     "No. No, sir." Stefan says quickly, before hopping up from my lounge.

     Trying to hide her smile, Nora gets up and follows Stefan towards the table. Derek was better. He really was. But his possessiveness and protectiveness still came in strong waves. Especially when it came to us. To  _our_ family. It was lucky Derek watched as Stefan grew from a baby.

     Otherwise . . . I'm sure I don't have to spell it out. It would be bad.

     Forgiveness didn't come right away. Hell, it took years. It doesn't sound exactly healthy, I knew that. The Skype sessions with Alan continued onward for quite awhile until Alan thought it would be best for us to have physical sessions rather than sessions online. Alan had referred Derek to Meredith Walker, who was thirty minutes outside of Beacon Hills. 

     He really was better. Yes, I would see his eyes grow dark whenever I would put on my scrubs for work or whenever he would see someone staring at me out in public. That was something that wouldn't change.

     But the times when he act upon them, those times when he would let his anger and possessiveness take control, they were long gone.

     The last time I had seen the _monster_ show itself, even the tiniest bit of itself, was when I completed all that I needed; when I got a job and Beacon Memorial as a nurse. He wanted to keep me safe. He had thought that I would be alone and that someone would take me away from him.

    Eventually that went all away. I enjoyed what I did, as did Derek. Derek and Cora's businesses became large . . . very large.

     They owned so many clubs, bars, cafés across the country and in Canada and Mexico, all in the Hale name. Right now he and Cora were in talks of buying a hotel . . . 

     So yeah, Derek was better. 

     Like always, the dinner with us all was loud and filled with laughter. A small table had to be added on to the end of the regular dinning table. Ten chairs filling in the spaces around the large table. Derek and I sat at opposite ends; Lydia, Jordan, Stefan, and Nora to my left, and Brett, Liam, and Grey on my right. The only face that was missing was Cora. 

     Who had called Lydia earlier, telling her she couldn't make it. The surprising friendship between Lydia and Cora developed fast. The kind of friendship that Lydia had basically called Cora every name she could think of when she told her she couldn't come to dinner and that they'll be back on talking terms by tonight.

     It was an hour later after dinner. I watched through the window into the backyard as Jordan played basketball with Grey, Stefan, and Nora; Jordan and Nora versing Grey and Stefan. Jordan and Nora dominating the match.

     Lydia sat on the edge smiling, nursing a glass of water - while rest drank wine and beer, she'd settled with water and now she was sitting out on basketball.

    This was what happened every time we had dinner all together. Usually I would be out there with them, with Derek, Lydia, Cora, in teams of four. My team always versing Derek's. But tonight I opted out to just watch. 

     In the reflection of the glass, I see and watch as Derek's figure walks up to me and presses the front of his body against my back. 

     Feeling Derek's body, as his arms wrapped around my waist, and watching my family outside through the window. I loved it. We didn't begin traditionally. Hell, in most views our relationship would be deemed problematic.

     But this was  _our_ relationship. Our life.

     Remembering what it all used to be like, and what it is now. I lean back into Derek's hold. Feeling the prickle as he buries his face into the crook of my neck.

     My best friend who I would spend all days  with; the person I loved more than anything.

     My tormentor who broke me down to tears for three years.

     My abductor who stole me away from a life of lies. 

     My partner who I pieced back together; the partner I had helped slay the monster and forgive.

     And my love who I built all of this up with.

     My best friend.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU ALL SOOOOOOOOOO MUCH for the insane amount of love and support this story received. I hope I wrapped everything up and did it justice. Some might notice that the ending is a mirror of the beginning. There might be a catchup chapter in a few months, to see where the characters are. I dunno, I don't wanna end this D: ahaha. 
> 
> If you all would like to continue to support my future stories and previous ones I've put on hold because I suck at updating them! Ahaha. 
> 
> The stories I'll be focusing on now: Captive and Mine! and the crime family idea I had brought up last chapter: The Hales. It'll be a mix between two Fandoms. Hint of the other Fandom: two brothers ;) 
> 
> Love you all <3


	31. Alternate Universe?

Hey guys :)

     I know this story was supposed to be over but a week ago I got to thinking about adding onto this story but being told as an alternate universe. The houses would stay the same as would the tree. But friendships and relationships would all change. The story would be different (not childhood friends) but the structure would still be the same? I'm wording this all wrong.

     But yeah.... add onto this story with an alternate telling.... yay or nay?

**Author's Note:**

> I like the idea of best friends, turned enemies, turned something more and I saw that there not a lot of "Bully Derek" stories and for some reason I really like that idea, so I thought I would combine them and see how it turned out. I didn't intend for this to go very dark, it just got away from me. Sorry if it offends anyone :)
> 
> The tree joining the rooms. I grew up with that; a lot of houses in my neighbourhood had trees in-between their homes, and my best friend and I would always climb across to see each other day and night - we still do years later. I'd come home from just seeing him at school and find him longing on my chair watching TV with my window open. So I thought it would be cool to add it into this :)


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